


Ink and Waterstains

by Oparu



Series: The Tales of Maestro's Family [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the near disaster at Deep Space 5, Admiral Kathryn Janeway is offered a choice between a lateral change in authority or reassignment to Deep Space 6, the latter is more interesting but it requires asking Beverly to give up a prestigious place at Starfleet Medical. Kathryn struggles with her decision and Beverly with Kathryn's delay in telling her.</p><p>Once they arrive in their new home, they find a host of new challenges, most noticeably, the Romulans next door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> set in the same universe as Uncharted. written for scifibigbang with [fantastic art by touchdownpossum](http://oparu.dreamwidth.org/292124.html)

_December 2379  
Earth, San Francisco_

 

With only a quarter hour before eighteen hundred, Beverly is late. No amount of sneaking can the living room could make up for that.

Kathryn raises an eyebrow, not looking up from her book. "You know, I get coffee in bed tomorrow because you're late."

Beverly shucks her uniform jacket and tosses it onto a chair. Amused by his gift, the Maestro leaves his comfortable window and begins to knead her jacket with his paws.

Her hiss of "dammit" carries to Kathryn on the sofa.

"You know he loves a fresh jacket."

"I'm going to have to take it into the sonic shower in the morning to get the fur off."

Beverly rips off her undershirt and dances out of her trousers. The first night they've tried to go out for three weeks and she's late.

"You knew that was a hazard of leaving it there." Kathryn calls from the other room.

"I know."

Beverly strips off her bra and panties and rummages through the drawer until she finds the red ones she always wears with this dress. Pulling them on as she sours her closer for her dress, she wonders why she never takes the time to set things out.

"How was your day?" She has to yell, so Kathryn will hear her, and her wife seems entirely content not to get up. Beverly drops her dress down over her shoulders as Kathryn answers.

"Quiet. The Ontinuri have stopped posturing and decided that it might be acceptable to have the Federation as allies instead of facing the entirety of our united worlds as enemies."

Her sarcasm is sharp, even through the wall.

"Well negotiated, dear." Beverly knows her well enough to recognise the pause as a roll of Kathryn's eyes.

"And you, save any star systems from ague today?"

"No." Beverly sighs and reaches for her jewellery box. Her hair will have to go the way it is, she doesn't have time to do anything else. She wraps her hand around the old wood, and feels paper.

There are some theatres on Earth that still have paper tickets. The Metropolitan Opera, and two antique ones in North America that prize themselves on their attention to historical detail. Beverly knows this because she's been to both of the antique ones, and she even dragged Kathryn last time.

There are more paper tickets in Europe, where traditions are more engrained. The Konzerthaus Berlin is still one of Earth's most acoustically perfect arenas. The United European Opera company has been running a sold out show of _"The Marriage of Figaro"_ with authentic historical sets and it's absolutely impossible to get tickets.

Beverly has tried. She used all of her credentials and was only able to get on a waiting list for some time next year.

Completely forgetting that she meant to get earrings and that she needs to wear shoes, Beverly dashes out of the bedroom, tickets clutched in her hand.

"You have tickets--"

Kathryn sets her book down and leaves the sofa. Her cream coloured dress is just loose enough to show the slight swell of her belly when she stands. Three is as perfect now as she- or he- was conceived. Beverly's tricorder still hides the truth from her, just as she wanted and Three's gender remains a surprise.

Just to lodge her protest, Kathryn's made a point of alternating weeks. This week, Three is a boy, and on Wednesday, Three will be a girl. Beverly suspects it's more to annoy her than anything else, but she likes the frustration.

"How did you--?" She pauses, staring at her. Beverly crosses her arms over her chest, realising that no impossible opera tickets appear without reason. "What did you do?"

Looking wounded, Kathryn reaches for her shoulder.

"I did nothing."

Beverly frowns, tapping the tickets against Kathryn's chest. "These are absolutely impossible to get. Completely. I tried. Jean-Luc tried, I begged Deanna to have her mother try and no one could get them."

"I reminded my sister that you were instrumentally involved in getting our mother a grandchild, thus getting Phoebe off the hook for at least a few years. Somehow, Phoebe got them."

Kathryn stands on her tiptoes to kiss her cheek.

"Occasionally she is useful, and she does like you."

"Oh no." Beverly takes her hand and holds it suspiciously. "Three saving Phoebe from the pressure of when your mother was going to get grandchildren could have gotten you anything you wanted from your sister. You wouldn't use it now--"

Shaking her head, she purses her lips, realising what Kathryn must have done"You cheated."

"I most certainly did not."

"Yes you did."

Waving towards the bedroom, Kathryn grabs her handbag. "You need shoes."

"I'm not putting them on until you admit you cheated."

"Then we'll get kicked out the restaurant." Sinking back onto the sofa, Kathryn sets down her handbag again and picks up her book. "Some women would be ecstatic that their partners remember what they liked and went to all the trouble of getting them tickets to the one opera they most wanted to see and had raved about for the last few weeks."

Beverly sets the tickets in a place of honour on her dresser and retrieves her shoes from the closet. Slipping them on, she removes her coat from the closet and takes Kathryn's too. She calls through the wall, too disappointed to look at Kathryn while she teases her.

"Some women would respect their partner's wishes and not find out the sex of their baby."

When she returns, she keeps Kathryn's coat, and offers her a hand up. "I love the tickets. Thank you."

Accepting her hand, Kathryn meets her eyes, entirely earnest. She reaches up and strokes Beverly's cheek. "I would never cheat. I know how important it is to you. I disagree, but I'd never cheat."

Beverly slips Kathryn's coat over her shoulders and tries to decide what other reason Kathryn could have to use the best leverage she's ever had over her sister on something as insignificant as opera tickets.

"So you know Three's a boy. Well, I suppose you'll want to talk about Evan then, or Colin, maybe Andrew?"

Whirling in Beverly's arms, Kathryn laughs. "No, no, you can't have known all this time. You wouldn't do that. You'd never do that."

"One tricorder sweep, while you were sleeping."

"No, no. I don't believe you."

Kathryn heads for the door, stopping to pat the head of the contented cat, curled up on Beverly's well-kneaded jacket. "The Maestro doesn't either."

"Well, you cheated."

Kathryn sets both hands on her hips, draws herself up to her full height and glares. "I certainly did not. I have no idea if Three is Evan or Elsa because you won't let me find out."

"I love surprises."

Beverly shuts the cat into the apartment alone with a last mournful look at her uniform jacket beneath him. Maybe she has another in the closet. Maybe their next cat should be black.

Kathryn forgives her enough to wind her arm into Beverly's and they head for the complex's transport hub.

"Isn't Three's personality going to be enough of a surprise? Wouldn't it be nice to have a name all picked out and an idea what he'll be like?"

Beverly sighs, stopping their pace and kissing Kathryn's cheek. "I love you, but I need Three to be a surprise."

Kathryn nods, and smiles, relenting. "And Four?"

"If Four is mine, Four will also be a surprise."

"I could scan you while you're sleeping…"

"And that would be wrong."

Beverly gestures up on the transporter pad and searches for the restaurant. When Kathryn picks, they end up closer to home. Beverly has a flair for the dramatic and she likes crossing timezones for dinner and eating breakfast in India. Kathryn does tolerate it, but it's easiest to convince her on date nights because those are something special.

Finding Thailand in the menu, she calls it up and climbs up on the platform next to Kathryn.

“I forgot my bag."

Kathryn laughs, shaking her bag towards Beverly.

“You'd better not lose me. You'll get stuck in Thailand and not make it back home in time to go to the opera."

Sighing at her own absentmindedness, Beverly relaxes into the transporter beam and allows the tickling sensation to envelop her. When the white and blue fades away, she catches a glimpse of the other transport stations as they are relayed through Asia and finish far on the north coast of Thailand.

Immediately the air smells different, still wet but warm instead of cool like San Francisco. She reaches for Kathryn's hand and with her fingers around Beverly's own they step down.

“I'd never miss that opera."

“Then I can trust you to stay with me?"

“I thought you trusted that already."

“Can hormones make me paranoid?"

Kathryn's curious look is the same one she uses when she is trying to weasel some piece of medical information out of Beverly. It's cute, even charming: a feigned vulnerability and the rare admission that there is something Kathryn doesn't know.

She definitely knows that Beverly is weak to this look, so she employs it at half strength.

“Probably not. Weepy, angry, irritable––"

“Oh that's going to be fun."

“Let me finish."

Kathryn rolls her eyes, unimpressed.

“Sentimental, empathetic, affectionate, easily aroused––"

“Now you're just teasing. No amount of hormones will make me sentimental."

She gives Beverly an appraising look, eyes lingering on Beverly's breasts before trailing down and following the line of her hem to where it exposes her legs. That look, a slow, predatory sort of glance, has been more common lately. It's certainly more fun than nausea, even if that wasn't so bad. Kathryn has far more patience than she gives herself credit for possessing. Being pregnant has made her pause, something rare for her and Beverly finds it achingly poignant. She remembers vaguely that kind of extra space in the day, moments that lasted longer than they normally would have.

It's sentimental; Beverly's even more so and her chest tightens. There's something sweet to it and Beverly kisses her, resting her lips on her forehead.

"I think the pot is calling the kettle sentimental."

Kathryn wriggles free, touching Beverly's nose with the tip of her finger.

"But you're sweet like this."

"Like what?"

"All overprotective and touchy-feely."

Giggling as they head down the warm, tropical path in the lazy sunshine, Beverly smirks.

"I'm touchy-feely?"

"You encourage me."

Backing her into a tree, Kathryn rests a hand on Beverly's solar plexus, feeling her breathe. Her fingers are small, yet the contact stops Beverly immediately. She shivers, even though it's hot in her jacket. Kathryn studies her lips, running her eyes over them with a covetous air.

"Do we have to eat?"

Pausing, Beverly toys with her, as if contemplating the idea. Kathryn starts lean in to kiss her and Beverly sighs.

"Yes, we have to eat."

Kathryn's eyes narrow and Beverly pulls her closer, incredibly relieved to be through the beginning of her pregnancy when everything revolved around trying to find some kind of stillness. In the past few weeks, Kathryn's head has descended from the clouds, and her dizziness has faded. Her headaches are more familiar, and therefore something she can put her mind to ignoring. Her nausea is slightly more stubborn, but she approaches it with the same determination with which she attacks everything.

It's that intensity Beverly's finding difficult to resist at the moment. Letting Kathryn convince her to make love on the beach before dinner is less than responsible, so she puts the idea away. There will be time after dinner.

Dinner is an incredibly classy affair, with a candlelit table deep in trees near a waterfall. It's tough place to procure reservations, and Beverly debated back and forth between which of their names might hold more sway before finally giving in and asking Deanna's help.

Deanna may not have been able to get opera tickets, but thanks to her mother, she has an absolute skill with dinner reservations. Beverly owes her a trip to the Admiral's spa on Earth; Kathryn's never gone, so she won't miss her time. There are more than a few perks to being Doctor Janeway.

Kathryn orders conservatively. Thai soups are bland, and the fish course is delicately spiced over fragrant rice. Beverly indulges a little in green curry and Kathryn steals two of her prawns. Last month both would have needed to be skipped, so this is progress.

Kathryn's left hand finds Beverly's knee during dessert, and the steady upward climb of it beneath her dress suggests that she has only a cursory interest in her mango custard. Beverly wants to finish hers, so she has to play coy.

She slips her foot out of her shoe and toys with Kathryn's bare ankle until the hand on her own knee squirms. They're barely out of the restaurant and down the path when Kathryn kisses her; this time, there's no reason to delay. The beach is quiet, one of the beauties of this restaurant is how isolated it is. Several of the coves go on for kilometres, and the warm sun is only just creeping towards midday. They walk for a while, far enough through the trees that even the idea of everyone else in the universe is gone.

When they finally head to the beach, Beverly's shoes are entirely impractical, and she stops, teasing them off with one hand. She has to carry her coat too, and smirks when Kathryn hands hers over and doesn't ask for it back. If Beverly had been thinking, she would have brought a blanket, or something, maybe a towel. She was late, and the tickets made her so distracted that she's lucky they transported to the correct little city on the Thai coast.

The water is the kind of crystal blue it never is in San Francisco, and she leaves the coats, her bag and her shoes in a heap on the sand and heads for the water. The warm surf caresses her feet and ankles and she wades happily almost to her knees. She closes her eyes, losing herself in the smell of salt and sand.

When she turns, Beverly's eyes find Kathryn just in time to watch the last of her zipper slide open on the back of her dress. Kathryn's bra strap is cream, just lighter than her skin. Her dress drops to the sand, sliding down her skin like lover's fingers. Beverly watches, pleasantly surprised that Kathryn looked into how deserted the area is. Holding her own skirt above the water, she stands, watching as Kathryn slowly takes off her bra.

When they first were together, Kathryn would snap her bra off, flinging it to some forgotten corner of the bedroom, and they'd both end up looking for it in the morning. Once she even had to replicate one. Beverly smiles at that while Kathryn's panties, surprisingly lacy because she had time to dress well, slip down her legs. She stands in the sunlight for a moment, soaking it in through pale skin.

Beverly sloshes out of the water. She probably can't get her dress off in the waves, and since that's the way they're headed, she might as well take advantage of Kathryn's nudity before either of them get sunburnt. Beverly pulls her dress over her head and tosses it at Kathryn's feet. Snapping off her bra, she adds that to the pile.

Kathryn stops her from taking off her panties with a hand on her hip.

"Let me do it."

Beverly smiles, pulling up her hands and cupping Kathryn's swollen breasts instead of sliding off her panties.

"Gently." Kathryn taunts her.

"When am I not gentle?"

Beverly kisses her neck, working her way up towards her chin and eventually her lips. Kathryn slides her panties down off her hips while they kiss, her cool hands dancing along Beverly's newly naked bottom. Her legs are damp, and her panties stick and Kathryn breaks the kiss to frown.

"You had to go into the water."

"It's nice."

"I can think of other things that are nice."

Taking her cue to remove her own panties, Beverly bends down, stripping them off gracefully. As she lifts her head, she pauses half-up and kisses the swell of Kathryn's belly. It's still not much, but enough to have frustrated Kathryn into new uniforms. Letting go of the part of her mind that reminds her exactly where the uterus is, and how the baby might be aligned, Beverly simply kisses them both.

Running her fingers slowly through Beverly's hair, Kathryn waits for her to work her way back up. Her eyes are soft, almost damp with tears, and she leans close. Her voice is soft, that one where it's almost caught in her throat and Beverly just wants to hold her.

"Saying hello?"

"I like knowing Three's in there, safe and warm. Maybe a little caffeinated."

Kathryn shakes her head, burying her face in Beverly's neck while Beverly surveys the beach and their pile of clothing. The coats are their best plan. She eases Kathryn's head up, kissing her before either of them can tear up further.

Beverly's coat is older, and she'll have to wash it when she gets home. She spreads it out, and Kathryn smirks down at her.

"When did we get so classy?"

"Maybe we're remembering our impetuous youth."

Patting the coat next to her, Beverly lays back, staring up at the faintly cloudy blue sky. Kathryn climbs over her instead of laying down, and for a moment, the sun halos her hair.

"Hey." Beverly whispers, tucking Kathryn's hair away.

Kathryn kisses her in response, letting the half conversation fade into sighs and murmurs.  


* * *

 

"You knew the _Enterprise_ was damaged, that most of the ships in your fleet had all but imploded their warp drives to reach _Deep Space 5_ before the station was lost. Your fleet contained civilian vessels, which you knew were without defences. _Deep Space 5_ , a station full of Starfleet technology." Admiral Nsomeka rolls the words angrily over his tusks, resting his hands on the desk in front of him. "You all but handed the Romulans a fleet of Starfleet and civilian vessels, and a space station."

"To be fair, Nsomeka, the Romulans could not have landed on the station without risking exposing themselves to the tevalalam ak virus." Rossa is more moderate and one of Kathryn's better chances of leaving the hearings with her rank and position intact. Kathryn can't smile at her, not now, but she does appreciate her presence.

Necheyev's said the least. Nsomeka seems to want Kathryn's pips on a platter, Rossa's airing on the side of reassignment and Necheyev has said no more than a few words in the last three days.

"That may have been a risk the Romulans were willing to take. Sacrifice a few to better understand their enemy: that fits with Romulan tactics."

"Have any of you considered that Romulan Vice Admirals have a similar amount of autonomy to their Starfleet counterparts? That Vice Admiral Toreth's actions were not for Romulans, but a selfless humanitarian gesture?" Kathryn grinds her teeth together, forcing her voice to remain level and even. She's been standing for the last three hours. Her feet ache, and the extra weight of Three in her belly is wrenching her spine out of place, but she refuses to let them know. She won't sit until the inquisition is over.

Nsomeka snorts at the idea of Romulan charity, but Rossa nods.

"The psych profile of Toreth written by Commander Troi suggests she is a competent, rational commander."

"Commander Troi wrote that Toreth was deeply loyal to her empire." Nsomeka drops his PADD from fat fingers.

Necheyev folds her fingers over her PADD neatly, a soft contrast to Nsomeka's Tellarite fervor. "Her empire had just as much to lose from a deadly pandemic as we did. One ship carrying tevalalam ak to a populated world could have decimated the galaxy. What would we do differently if a Romulan commander asked for our help?"

"We are not the Romulans."

"Nor are they our enemy."

Nsomeka swivels in his chair, turning to glare at Necheyev. "The absence of declared hostilities does not make the Romulans our allies. They have invaded our space, plotted to kill our leaders and violated the Neutral Zone numerous times since its implementation. Only this year, a Romulan--"

"Reman," Nechayev corrects. "Shinzon was a Reman outcast who took power by force. He no more represents the Romulan people than the Founders who infiltrated Starfleet Command represent the citizens of the Federation. The Empress has been more cordial than previous Romulan administrations. She even provided humanitarian assistance the _Enterprise_ herself before she rose to power."

"Which makes her position all the more tenuous." Nsomeka fills his barrel chest, ready to launch into a full argument on the nature of Romulan political thought.

Rossa clears her throat. "Admiral Janeway's actions are not reflected in the nature of Romulan politics. She may have allowed Romulans to violate sovereign Federation territory, but that action prevented the death of thousands and the destruction of our space stations. Though we do not commend the means, we can certainly recognise the favourable outcome."

Nechayev doesn't have to look at Nsomeka to make her point. Instead, she turns her icy gaze on Kathryn. "Kirk defied orders and saved the galaxy on numerous occasions. He even travelled through time to protect the Federation. Captain Garrett went to the aide of Klingons, our sworn enemy at the time, and paved the way to peace with the lives of her crew. The Klingons chose to honour her sacrifice and consider us as more than we were before. Surely we can extend the Romulans and this Toreth the same courtesy. They entered our space to provide aid and left without quarrel."

Though her lips do not move, the hint of a smile glints in her eyes. "Admiral Janeway acted without orders, but she acted in the best interest of the lives entrusted to her. We can hardly punish her for that."

"Nor can we reward such behaviour." Nsomeka rolls his head on his shoulders, settling his decision. "You will not be demoted, Admiral Janeway. However, in light of your independence and inability to follow the orders of Starfleet Command, I do not believe that this is a good place for you. I recommend reassignment."

Rossa nods, her eyes almost sad. "Reassignment may be best."

Nechayev lifts a PADD, checking the list.

Kathryn's been dreading the assignments written on that PADD. Civilian transport control was bad enough. Logistics management on a remote planet would be worse. Perhaps she should try and get herself busted back to captain. There must be something she can say to provoke Nsomeka.

Rossa does not need to look. "Admiral Whfayllnzk has earned a promotion. _Deep Space 6_ is in need of a commander."

Nsomeka glances at his PADD before his dark eyes bulge. "You want to send her to the fringes of Romulan space?"

Nechayev's smile breaks her control. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Janeway's already proved she has a way with the Romulans and she survived the Delta Quadrant, if she's spent too long making her own decisions, perhaps it's time we let her get back to it. _Deep Space 6_ is remote, crowded, poorly resourced and on the edges of both the Federation and the Romulan Empire. It is a difficult, demanding command."

"Nearly a punishment in itself," Rossa adds, soothing Nsomeka with a frown. "You know how much you despised your time on _Deep Space 4_. _Deep Space 6_ is worse. It's a dismal outpost full of eccentric long-range explorers and pioneer families."

Kathryn rests her hand on the arm of the chair she's been shunning for the last three hours and lets it take some of her weight. A space station on the edge of the universe: it could be worse, she thinks.

"Admiral Whfayllnzk will be leaving to return to Earth in three days. We will make the announcement then, unless you wish to object to the posting?"

Rossa's question hangs, leaving Kathryn seconds to decide if she wants to be shunted into the least important, most irritating realms of Starfleet or sent into the outback.

"Can't be worse than the Delta Quadrant." She shouldn't be glib, but Kathryn wants to go home.

"That's the spirit, Kathryn." Nechayev checks with her colleagues and makes a note on the PADD. "Start assembling your command team. We'll make the formal handover in three days and you'll need to be underway in two weeks."

Two weeks to pack up everything she's built on Earth and explain to Beverly that she has to leave the most prestigious position in her field and start treating snakebites and space-sick engineers. Kathryn nods, still standing perfectly erect.

"Acknowledged, Admiral."

Only when the members of her tribunal have filed out does she sink into the chair. First she leans back, then she puts her head in her hands. _Deep Space 6_ is Uluru station; the station on the far edge of the Federation. She's only been there once, on the _Bonestell_ and she's not even sure she spent more than an hour off her ship. She's traded life at the heart of the Federation and that little cottage she had her eye on in South America for scientists, families and life weeks from Earth.

Her mother's going to kill her, if Beverly doesn't do it first.

When she lifts her head, ready to face the world again, Nechayev stands there, arms crossed and waiting.

"Uluru station really isn't that bad you know. Plenty of scientists full of new discoveries and lots of strange galactic weather patterns."

Kathryn watches her, surprised by the smile on the other woman's face. "I never talk about science now."

"We don't, do we?" Nechayev takes a step towards her. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't get busted down to captain."

"I already apologised."

Smiling down at her knees, Kathryn pushes herself out of the chair. "I knew I was away too long."

"If I'd been out there as long as you were, I'd expect to have my own part of the Federation when I came back." Nechayev falls in step with her, walking slowly as if they weren't just on the opposites of an inquiry.

"You did come up with some bizarre rules about not letting the Romulans drop by while I was gone."

"Protectionism is a recurring theme lately. Everything and everyone's a threat after Shinzon and the Borg."

"So, if I'd crashed a ship into the station to save it--"

Nechayev's eyes light up. "You'd get a medal. I had to give Picard one for stopping Shinzon."

"I'll remember that."

"Repairing our ships keeps the corps of engineers busy."

They walk in silence for a while, passing aides and other officers on the way out. Kathryn stopped in the cloakroom, collecting her coat before she braves the winter rain.

"Doctor Rickon would certainly be ready to rotate off of Uluru-"

"Why is it called Uluru?"

"Big rock in the middle of the desert in Australia, big station in the middle of the space desert." Nechayev shrugs. "Scientist humour."

Kathryn nods, barely hearing. Doctor Rickon is the chief medical officer, which is a position far down the ladder of prestige from the head of medical, but if she's going, Beverly has to come with her. Kathryn refuses to even contemplate leaving her on Earth.

Kathryn fiddles with the corner of her coat. "How do you tell your wife you need her to give up the most important position in her field to come with you into the space desert?"

"Carefully. Maybe from across the room." Nechayev smiles and shakes her head. "I don't know if I could, too much of a coward. That's why I never married."

"Does save some of the trouble."

"And here I thought you loved trouble, Kathryn."

Kathryn tugs her collar shut. She hates the rain here. It's cold and thin, just a step above fog. She's not going to miss weather out on Uluru station.

"I like to think it's the other way around."

"Don't we all?"

* * *

"Doctor Janeway, am I disturbing you?" The deep voice is male and not immediately familiar.

Beverly looks up from her work, but the light is brighter in the corridor and she only catches a silhouette.

"Not at all." She offers to the shape, smiling. "I'm nearly done. What can I do for you?"

"I was in the vicinity of Starfleet Medical and it was logical to offer to accompany you to your apartment." As he approaches, she recognises Tuvok in voice and manner just before he comes into her light.

"Thank you. I appreciate the company." Beverly softens her smile and watches him nod. Vulcans are quite sociable, when they wish to be.

"Humans often do."

He hovers behind her in that entirely polite Vulcan way and she gestures at her work: an epidemiological map of the sectors bordering the Neutral Zone.

"The collapse of the Romulan Empire left many of the border worlds unprotected from border raids and poorly served with medical care. Cuperic fever broke out here, on Rishkun Four and spread to the neighbouring worlds, three weeks later it started showing up in Federation outposts."

She waves her hands over the map and it responds with more ominous red dots on tiny holographic planets. As time passes, they spread, showing the movement of the virus from planet to planet.

"We have a vaccine for some strains of cuperic fever, but it mutates often, like the influenza viruses of Earth."

He eyes the map, then turns his gaze to her. "You are determining how to efficiently distribute resources?"

"As efficiently as I can." Beverly shuts down the map and sighs, shaking her head regretfully. "I'm only human."

He acknowledges her half-smile with another polite nod. "Humans frequently far exceed their own expectations."

"Thank you." She organises the PADDs and sets them aside. She'll be back tomorrow, perhaps she'll find her breakthrough then. If not, there's always the next day, and the rest of the week.

Tuvok raises an eyebrow and Beverly realises she must be frowning.

"Sometimes I get nostalgic for a ship of one thousand." She doesn't have to offer much more, and true to his species, Tuvok watches her without emotion marring his dark features. "It seems like a big number when they give you all the records, all those names. Now I have planets, not names. Sectors, whole solar systems--"

"I am certain you are up to the demands of your position."

"Thank you." She pushes back from her desk. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

He nods, waiting for her at the door. "Your wife can tell you my confidence is not something I distribute without cause."

Beverly takes her coat from the hook. Tuvok hasn't even removed his. Winter in San Francisco is cold for a Vulcan. She slips it on over her uniform. She extends her arm and he studies it for a moment before taking hers.

"Kathryn hasn't been telling me much lately."

"Her debriefing is not proceeding well."

"That's the kind way of putting it. Jean-Luc did what he could."

"The word of Captain Picard carries great weight with Starfleet Command."

"Sometimes more than he'd like." Beverly sighs. "Not as much as we need this time."

The gardens between Starfleet Medical and the block of Starfleet apartments are green and quiet. The air's cold and there's more fog than sun. Some of the Andorian summer irises are blooming. They stop and Tuvok examines them with a practiced hand.

"These have been transplanted here, on a new planet from thousands of light-years away. Andorian summer irises only bloom during the warmest parts of their summer. Here, they thrive."

Beverly crouches next to him, caressing the pale blue petals. "Are you saying we might need a transplant?"

"I am remarking on the remarkable ability of some individuals, like this flower, to thrive in varied conditions and survive."

She grins weakly, patting his shoulder. "Admiral Janeway survived the Delta Quadrant, logically she'll survive Starfleet as well."

"Though the two are not immediately comparable, you have grasped the idea."

"Crudely."

"You are human, Doctor."

"And you are a good friend, Tuvok."

He inclines his head and Beverly grins.

"I consider you one as well."

"I'd hope so."


	2. Chapter 2

The water rolls in the pot, silver bubbles against the copper bottom of the pan. Kathryn stares at it, watching the steam rise. It's a violent action for so small a space. It's beautiful too, as if she could touch it without scalding her flesh.

She won't, she's already been scalded enough for one day. Nechayev had it right when she walked Kathryn home from the hearing. It's less than a court martial; more than a debriefing. She saved lives. Protocol is less important than the people those rules were written to protect. Kirk would understand, as would Captain Garrett.

Garrett was a good one to bring up, Kathryn may have winced at Kirk. Had anyone told her a year ago that Alynna 'Ice Queen' Nechayev would be her stalwart protector, Kathryn would have laughed at them. She may have contemplated tossing them in the brig and checking to see what universe they were from if they went on to say she'd be married and pregnant: two things she's always meant to do, yet failed to find the time.

She still barely has the time, yet she's trying.

Beverly's hand runs across the small of her back, then her chin rests on her shoulder.

"Kathryn, you've proved a watched pot boils. You'll be getting a T'Varit Award for sure."

"I'm sorry."

She meant to put in the pasta minutes ago.

"It's all right. Go, let Kate look you over while I rescue dinner."

Kathryn tosses a glance towards the living room, where Kate Pulaski sits patiently talking to the Maestro. He's more than happy to be admired and Kate seems to adore him.

"Have I mentioned I'm terrible with doctors who aren't you?"

"At length, and your EMH warned me at the wedding that you'd be exceptionally difficult." Beverly smiles and leans in closer. "I like a challenge."

Kathryn hovers near the stove, remaining within Beverly's arm instead of heading into the living room and facing her other challenge of the day. Antenatal appointments are nothing to fear. Everything's fine, and Beverly's told her that enough that Kathryn believes her wholeheartedly. Protocol dictates that a doctor can't treat her own wife, so Kate Pulaski, Beverly's colleague, and a friend, volunteered for the challenge.

Beverly drops pasta into the water, stirs it once and then sets down the spoon.

"Everything all right?"

Kathryn nods wearily. "It's been a long day."

"Don't let the Brass Inquisitors get to you."

Beverly strokes her cheek, then kisses her, lightening the moment.

Kathryn doesn't know how to tell her that she may be in real trouble. That accepting Romulan help is well and good when you're Captain Picard and you've just saved Earth, but slightly harder to explain when you let them cross into Federation territory with enough ships to destroy your relief fleet. Not that she'll be demoted, or get anything more than a bureaucratic slap on the wrist and a new assignment.

How do you ask the woman you love to give up the top job in her field to follow you to the ends of Federation space and look after a space station full of eccentric scientists and thousands of family members? Kathryn can't handle that tonight, so she steels herself for Kate Pulaski.

"She's going to be mean to me, isn't she?"

"Terribly so."

"Remind me again why I married you?"

"You feel the need to torture yourself and I'm amazing in bed. Go, be good."

Kathryn starts taking off her jacket as she heads into the living room. She should be grateful. Prestigious doctors don't usually take the time to monitor the uncomplicated pregnancies of stubborn admirals. She could have some all too eager junior doctor, or the EMH's brusque manner. He would take coffee from her hands and lecture her about the sleep she's not getting.

Pulaski might be kinder. Beverly likes her, so does Da Vinci, and both are good signs.

"Your cat really fancies himself the lord of the house, doesn't he?"

Smiling at the cat, Kathryn sits down and leaves her jacket on the chair behind her.

"And everything else he can see. He graciously allows us to live here because we feed him to his satisfaction."

"I've never had a cat, but I've had many friends with them, and can see the appeal. It's always nice to have someone who appreciates that you've come home."

Kate's smile is knowing, a bit too much like Kathryn's mother's, but she hasn't begun any lectures yet, so that's a start.

"Your medical history is quite a read through. The usual, of course: lacerations, brain trauma, contusions, broken bones. Then you went for the truly unique and were assimilated by the Borg, infected with a macrovirus, experimented on by unethical aliens, and my personal favourite: turned into an amphibian."

Her genuine smile at that, mixed with scientific wonder, wins Kathryn over, and she smiles back.

"I was tempted to list that as a previous pregnancy, but I don't remember it nor can I be sure I didn't lay eggs, so it probably doesn't count."

"Probably not. Good try."

Kathryn looks at Kate's empty hands, then down at her belly before she met her eyes again. "So, what do you need to do?"

"Starfleet regulations stipulate that you are examined every few weeks during your pregnancy with our visits increasing in regularity as you enter the last part of your pregnancy. You've missed the first few appointments-"

Frowning, Kathryn begins to protest that she had every intention of making them: she just became busy so easily that she lost track of time.

"It's all right, Admiral. No one blames you for being busy. Beverly asked me to put you on my patient roster because we're old friends, and she knew I wouldn't mind a few oddly scheduled appointments."

Kate reaches for her medical kit and opens it up on her lap, taking out her tricorder. "I'm also a stubborn old war horse of a doctor, who's tough enough to handle you." She smirks at this and removes the little probe from her tricorder.

"Your EMH has extended notes about your disinclination for medical advice, but I've worked with Mark Ones enough to have wanted to smack them in the photons a few times, so I think we'll get along fine. Now, do you mind if I run a tricorder scan?"

Kathryn nods, watching the little light start to blink in Kate's hand.

"I'm checking your blood for your rhesus factor, the baby's chromosomal profile, electrolytes, rate of nutrient absorption…"

Letting her continue the list, Kathryn watches the data flood into the tricorder and reminds herself not to strain her eyes trying to read it upside down. No indicators are red, and she knows enough about medical tricorders to know that's a very good sign.

"Your medical record lists Captain Picard as the father."

"Yes, he was our donor."

"You are aware that the replacement of his heart was in no way due to a congenital defect, so you have nothing to worry about."

Kathryn nods again, smiling faintly. "He was quite concerned that I know everything there was to know about his genetics before Beverly and I made a lifetime commitment to raising them. Jean-Luc assured us that his youthful rashness was a learned quality we might be able to avoid."

"I can see that. How very gentlemanly of him." The scan finishes and Kate reads it over, when she looks up, she offers Kathryn the tricorder. "Everything's normal. Heart rate, growth targets, brain development: and no signs of amphibious characteristics."

"That's a relief."

"Your baby might feel like a tadpole, but I can assure you, it's a phase."

Feel? Kathryn stared at her, suddenly nervous. "I haven't felt anything."

Kate's expression immediately softens. "Don't worry. Some babies take their time making their presence known. Each one's different. You might feel it-"

"We've been calling the baby Three." Kathryn doesn't like it. Snakes are it. Three is Three.

"Three?"

"The third part of our collective. We might be spending too much time with Seven of Nine."

Kate cocks her head, smiling in acceptance. "I've known couples to come up with nicknames before, but yours certainly is unique. You might notice Three's moving around weeks from now, or tomorrow. Whenever it happens, it's perfectly fine."

She waits, patiently, as if Kathryn will have something else to say.

"I hate waiting."

"Your kind always does. Comes with the red uniform. Now, unless you have any other questions, lets have dinner."

Kate stands, scratching Maestro's head before she puts away her tricorder and heads towards the kitchen.

Kathryn stares at her, then jumps to her feet. "That was it?"

"I needed a full tricorder scan I could sign off on for the record. Beverly and I agree you're in excellent health, and I'll note that officially. Unless you have any questions?"

"No. No questions, thank you Doctor."

"My pleasure, Admiral." Kate says it sincerely and Kathryn relaxes. It is easy to trust her, Beverly was right about that. "Come on, let's eat before Beverly puts us both on report."   


* * *

"I can help you with those." Kate stands as Beverly does and grabs a few plates from the table.

"You don't have to."

"I can talk with my hands full."

Beverly smiles at that and nods. "We used the real plates, so they all need to go into the dish drawer."

Kate stacks her cutlery on her plate. "You don't wash them by hand?"

"Only when Kathryn's mother is around."

"Traditionalist?"

"Worse than my grandmother." Beverly opens the drawer and starts slipping dirty plates into the rack. One sonic cycle and they'll all be clean. She lines glasses along the side and looks up to Kate's patient smile.

"Think the inquiry's going as bad as she looks?"

Sighing, Beverly leans against the cabinet. "She won't talk about it."

"How many times have you brought up your reprimands over dinner?"

Beverly crosses her arms, trying to remember if she was reprimanded while she was married. "I didn't get my first formal reprimand until after Jack was gone."

"My second ex would stew for days."

"Kathryn's in that camp."

Kate drops in a handful of dirty cutlery, then brushes her hands clean. "Makes you wish she'd just come home and collapse into tears, doesn't it?"

"Would make things easier."

Kate nods, looking to the silver coffee pot on the counter. "Mind if I make a pot of coffee?"

"I'd love some, thanks." Beverly grabs coffee from the cupboard and sets it down while Kate fills the pot.

"Did you talk to Picard?"

"Jean-Luc's not on the best terms with Admiral Rossa since he allowed her grandson to stay with the Talarians, and I occasionally doubt Nsomeka's on good terms with anyone."

Kate watches the ground coffee settle in the water and steals a glance towards the living room. "Alynna thinks she'll be transferred. Too good to demote and too maverick to keep at headquarters. Logistics or heading a research department."

Beverly shakes her head. "Both of which she'll hate."

Kate pats her shoulder sympathetically. "I heard Doctor Rickon asked for a transfer."

"Off _Deep Space 6_? I saw the paperwork this afternoon." Beverly takes down coffee cups from the shelf above the sink.

"You do know who he's married to?"

Beverly has to think for a moment. "Something I have the hardest time pronouncing."

Kate grins. "Admiral Whfayllnzk."

"The commander of _Deep Space 6_." Beverly remembers, spilling a little coffee as she pours. "No, they wouldn't--"

"I think Alynna will push for it. Who would you rather have dealing with Romulans and scientists, Kathryn or Admiral ch'Ursek?"

"ch'Ursek thinks science is a waste of time."

"So he'd go over well out there."

Beverly sets down the coffee pot and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before she turns back to Kate. "I didn't have much luck with my last deep space station."

Kate winces at the memory. "You lived."

"Thanks to Kathryn and some Romulans willing to violate a whole set of treaties."

"Triage."

Kate's quip brings a smirk to Beverly's lips.

"Quite possibly." She wraps her fingers around the heat of her coffee, letting the idea simmer. " _Deep Space 6_."

"Stuttgart-class, constantly overcrowded, ignored by Starfleet command, last station before the end of the universe."

"What do they call it?"

"Uluru station."

"Uluru station," Beverly repeats, trying it out. "I was just saying I wanted to see patients again."

"Were you wishing?"

"Maybe I was." Beverly takes a slow breath and stares into the dark surface of her coffee. "Well, if that's where Kathryn's going, it solves the problem of replacing Doctor Rickon."

"Because that's the difficult post to fill." Kate shakes her head and starts looking around the kitchen with more interest. "How do you like your apartment?"

"The view from the balcony is incredible."

"And you have a bathtub."

"A palatial one." Beverly starts to smile. "Is this your way of volunteering?"

"We've traded places before."

Beverly sips her coffee. "And we've both swore we'd never go back."

"You did."

"I needed a change."

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe you just want my apartment."

Da Vinci leaps onto the counter in front of them, presenting his fur for adoration to them both.

"He's coming with us."

"Too bad." Kate scruffs his head. "He'd love my dog."

"You have a dog?"

"An old mutt of unknown parentage. She spends most of her time sleeping in the middle of my sofa."

"It's nice to have someone to come home to, isn't it?" Beverly should shoo the cat off the counter, but it's a lost cause. He seems to enjoy it up there anyway.

"Annabelle's sweet, but she's not quite a wife and a baby."

"Three's still pretty little."

"I hear space babies sleep better."

Beverly laughs and rubs Da Vinci's ears. "I may have said that a few times."

"We can't prove it."

"But that's not the point, is it?"

Kate smiles, then sighs. "I don't envy you. Transfers led to one of my divorces."

"We'll make it work." It's still just rumour and Beverly can't plan her life around rumours, even if Kate's been a reliable source in the past.

They talk until the coffee's gone and Kate heads home with a parting hug.

Beverly sets the mugs in the dish drawer and sets it to cycle. They'd been talking about moving. Kathryn thinks Three needs a yard, and Beverly's always liked the quiet. A little village in South America has some appeal, but this is the other direction entirely. There are not yards and gardens on the fringes of Federation space. Caldos is nearby, and she still has a cottage there, even if her most recent memories of that building are unpleasant. Ronan's gone, and he can't come after her again. She has more pleasant memories of that cottage than frightening ones.

Caldos is close enough for trips to grass and trees. Three can play in the same forests Beverly did. She gives the kitchen a final glance, then shuts off the light. Space stations are better than starships for children, easier to evacuate, more other kids of the same age and _Deep Space 6_ is full of families.

She'll have more time for Kathryn and Three if she's only the chief medical officer. CMO's get to go home at the end of the day, even if they occasionally get dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. It might not be so bad.

Beverly checks her plants before she goes to bed. She hums as she moves between them, picking off dead leaves and making sure the soil is moist. She has an old song running through her mind, one of those where she only remembers a few bars, but they're comfortable notes.

Kathryn isn't reading, which is odd for her. She's been lost in a book for the last few days, poetry of some sort. She was still reading when Beverly fell asleep last night, but tonight Kathryn doesn't have the interest. She was quiet at dinner, but she seemed to enjoy the company. Beverly and Kate did their best to keep the conversation out of the medical sector, but Kathryn was distracted. They could have talked about anything.

Her PADD's on her lap, but Kathryn's only half-reading her communiques. She's scrolling too quickly to be paying much attention to the words. She's not looking up, so Beverly leaves her in her world and settles down in bed next to her without comment. Rain drizzles the window outside and she listens to that and the soft sounds of Kathryn's fingers on the PADD.

"You served on a space station, didn't you?"

Not exactly a subtle question, but Beverly's not ready to ease her into the discussion. Kathryn needs to bring it up properly and Beverly's stubborn enough to make her.

" _Starbase 34_ , before Jack died." Beverly opens her eyes but doesn't roll over.

"The _Stargazer_ was based there?"

"She was. So every time he came back, Wes and I used to meet him at the airlock." That's a bittersweet memory and she rolls over, resting her head on Kathryn's shoulder.

Kathryn's hand runs shyly down Beverly's arm. It's so hard to be angry with her when she's vulnerable.

"Maybe he'll write."

Beverly stares down at the slight rise of Kathryn's belly and Three, who will be an ordinary child, not Mozart. "He does, when he remembers that time's passing differently for me."

"Does time pass for him at all?"

Sitting up onto her elbows, Beverly looks up at Kathryn. "I don't know. Not in a way you or I understand, and I'm happy for him, I really am, but I miss him. I miss knowing he was just on Earth and I'd see him occasionally, but this is what he needs to be doing."

Kathryn blinks a few times, too quickly. "I'm sorry he's not here."

"Me too, but you're here. Three's here, Maestro's here. Here isn't so bad." Beverly means to soothe her but Kathryn's too sensitive. Here is about to be somewhere else and she's not ready to talk about it yet. Beverly's not sure she's ready to talk about it either. Head of Medical is several steps away from Chief Medical Officer of a space station in the middle of nowhere. Kathryn's being punished and Beverly's career is going on hold again.

She does that. She did it for Jack and Wesley, she can do it again. Starfleet Medical and all of its paperwork will still be there when Three's grown up and Four and Five are in the Academy. She rests her hand on Kathryn's belly and smiles. She'll be angry tomorrow, maybe for sometime after that but the dust will settle and she'll get caught up in her patients and love what she's doing. That was why she got into medicine.

"Three's getting so big."

"I thought I didn't look big."

Beverly kisses her cheek, wishing she could skip the next few days and move on to the part where neither of them is holding anything back. She doesn't trust herself yet, she'll say something, snap, hurt Kathryn's feelings or lose her temper. She has to wait.

"You look beautiful."

Kathryn sets her PADD aside, slips down in the bed and rests her hand on top of Beverly's. "Did you believe Jack when he said that?"

"He never said it."

Arranging her pillow, Kathryn stares at her in disbelief.

"He used to joke that a woman as intelligent as I was should understand that I was beautiful as a matter of course, and thus never need to be reminded of what she already knew."

"Did you hit him?"

"I thought about it, but no, I let him think he had me and got back at him in some terribly glib fashion later."

Running her thumb slowly back and forth over Kathryn's belly, Beverly snuggles in closer to her and kisses her cheek. "When I say it, however, I'm repeating myself, because I'm a doctor, and that's what we do."

"Right. You're not going to ask that I believe you as a matter of scientific fact."

"Oh no, I've learned that no one listens to me until I've told them at least a dozen times."

Kathryn shuts her eyes. "That's so true, isn't it?"

"You have no idea." Beverly kisses her forehead, lingering over Kathryn's right eyebrow. "You look beautiful. Three rounds you out and your breasts are gorgeous."

"They hurt."

"Beauty is pain."

Opening one eye, Kathryn glares at her. "Thanks."

"Sleep. I'll see if I can do something about your breasts in the morning."

"You're such a tease."

"Yes, yes I am."

"I don't like it."

"Of course you don't." Beverly holds her close, reminding herself that all storms pass, even this one.   


* * *

 

"How many of those hyposprays can you take in a day?" Gretchen's gaze is stern and Kathryn wilts as she lowers the hypo from her neck.

"As many as I have to."

"You could give up coffee."

Kathryn doesn't dignify that with a response. "Caffeine inhibitors were invented so I don't have to do give up coffee."

Gretchen drops her eyes back to the term papers she's grading her way through. "Will you be joining us for New Year's or do you have other plans?"

Though Kathryn appreciates that her mother is trying to change the subject she can't lie. "We won't be able to make it."

"Oh? Big Starfleet party you have to show yourselves at?"

Kathryn shakes her head, wishing she could say something else, anything else. "We'll be in the Beta Octantis sector, on Deep Space 6."

"Deep Space 6?" Her mother runs that through her head. "Is that as far away as I think it is?"

"Further. It's out past the Neutral Zone, on the fringes of Federation space."

Gretchen rolls her eyes towards the ceiling, setting down her stylus and PADD. "Do I even want to know what you'll be doing out there?"

"I've been transferred."

"Temporarily?"

"I've been asked to take command."

"Of a space station so far away that you're past the Neutral Zone? Why not just head back to the Delta Quadrant and drag your wife with you."

Dropping her head into her hands, Kathryn tries to ignore the twisting knot in her stomach. "I'm not dragging Beverly."

"She's not going?"

"She'll be my Chief Medical Officer."

"Which sounds far less important than Head of Starfleet Medical." Gretchen folds her hands in her lap. "She loves you."

"She married me."

"She's a good woman, Goldenbird, don't mess this up."

For a moment, Kathryn can picture her father standing behind her mother. She remembers their looks that said Justin would never like dogs and her mother's glances when she thought Mark wouldn't be able to keep up with Kathryn's lifestyle.

"Were you given a choice?" Gretchen leans back in her chair. "This transfer, did you have other options?"

Kathryn hasn't put too much thought into her other options. She hates logistics and she'd be miserable working in that department. Admiral Nsomeka would make sure she had one of the most hated assignments, supervising civilian traffic along the Cardassian border, or something that kept her travelling all the time so she never saw Beverly or Three.

"Kathryn, why aren't you staying here so she can keep being head of Medical?"

"My options were limited."

"But you had options, didn't you? You made a decision."

Kathryn clutches her fingers together in a knot, resting her chin on them. "Yes."

"You're just like your father. You know, he'd walk through that door and tell me about the next dangerous mission he'd signed on for. We'd argue. I'd yell, he'd yell back, eventually I'd be in tears and he'd storm out into the fields. You get that from him."

"I'm not storming anywhere." Turning her eyes to the floor, Kathryn presses her thumbs into her forehead, wishing she could banish her headache. "I'll apologise."

"I'd start with that."

"Mom--"

"You asked her to quit her job, move to the other side of the quadrant and do a job she's far overqualified for."

"I'm not overqualified to run the station?"

"Are you?"

"Of course I am."

Gretchen raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh?"

"It's a station full of families and squabbling scientists. It's the last stop before the middle of nowhere. A commander could run it."

"But they chose you."

Too frustrated to sit, Kathryn left her chair and paces. Her back aches at the base of her spine and she doesn't know how to make it stop. "They're punishing me for defying their damn orders and saving thousands of people."

Her mother reaches over and picks up her knitting, straightening the yarn and starting a new row. "Are they punishing Beverly too?"

"Of course not."

"Didn't she say the station should be destroyed?"

"She was being cautious."

"Overly cautious?"

"No, no, Beverly made the right call. We couldn't have let the virus reach another station, or a planet." She can't even imagine what that would have done on a planet.

"So Beverly deserves to keep her position and you don't."

"I went against Starfleet's authority."

"Because you knew better?" Gretchen's knitting needles click in a steady rhythm.

"I was there."

"And you knew better?" Gretchen stresses the end. "You always know better."

"I did what had to be done. Starfleet command wasn't there to see it."

"So you can't follow orders?"

"I don't follow orders when those orders lead to senseless deaths."

Gretchen shakes her head and smoothes her knitting, checking for dropped stitches. "You don't follow orders?"

"I don't when--"

"Kathryn, I'd ship you off to the fringes too. You don't follow orders."

"I do when they make sense."

"How fast would you have put Chakotay in the brig if he behaved that way on your ship?"

"That's different."

"Because he has to follow your orders and you don't have to follow Starfleet's?"

Kathryn leans against the wall, sighing. She's caught and it's an uncomfortable trap. "My orders make sense."

"Starfleet has a hierarchy, whether or not you believe in the skills of those above you is irrelevant because they're above you. You have to listen to them, just like I have to listen to department heads who think we don't need to teach archaic programming languages because anyone can look them up."

Watching the holosnap of her father, Kathryn smiles weakly. "You sneak archaic computer languages into your finals every year."

"You can follow your own orders out there." Gretchen waves her over to her desk, holding up whatever it is that she's been working on. It's pale purple and Kathryn can't help worrying it's for Three. "Do you think Three's going to be early or late? I need to request my time off now."

"You'll have to come all the way out to _Deep Space 6_. It's eighteen days on a starship, over a month on a civilian transport."

Gretchen aligns her knitting, and as Kathryn worried, she's working on some kind of adorable little jacket. She can't help worrying that the baby insanity is spreading. Tom and B'Elanna already want to send them some of Miral's old things.

"Someone better pull some strings and see that I can hitch a ride on a starship."

"It doesn't work like that." Kathryn shuts her eyes while her mother holds up the jacket to her belly. It's a useless gesture; there's no way Gretchen could extrapolate the size of her grandchild based on the rise of Kathryn's stomach. "I don't have a starship."

"Three's father does. Chakotay does and that charming man who married you, he has a starship."

"Will?"

Gretchen leaves her knitting on her desk and stands to hug her daughter. "I liked him. He's very funny."

Burying her face in her mother's neck, Kathryn hates her eyes for stinging. She doesn't have a reason to cry but her eyes don't want to follow her orders. "He's one of Beverly's best friends."

"You need good friends."

"I know."

Releasing her, Gretchen grabs her arms. "Tell her. Apologise. Grovel."

"Yes mom."

"It'll be all right."

"I know."

Gretchen smiles, trying to cheer her. "Now, Admiral daughter, I want to meet Three's father. Do you think that can be arranged?"

Looking at her blankly, Kathryn rests a hand on her hip. "You met Picard at our reception."

"I spoke to him for a few minutes about how lovely the champagne was and how happy you and Beverly were. I'd hardly say I met him."

Backing up, Kathryn tries to remember when the _Enterprise_ will next be in the sector. The flagship so rarely returns to Earth that she worries this will be difficult to schedule. "There's plenty of information about him in Starfleet's public records. He's had a long career."

"What he did with a starship isn't him. I want to know what his laugh sounds like and if he'll come to our Federation Day picnics."

"I'm sure he'll come if he's in the sector."

"Does he have family?"

Retreating to the kitchen for a glass of water, Kathryn takes tiny sips to avoid triggering her over-sensitive gag reflex. "A sister in France, his brother's widow."

"Starfleet?"

Kathryn sets down her glass and the hand on her hip creeps forward to rest on her belly. "Civilian. There was a fire, their house was old, far from the fire station-- Picard's brother and nephew died. His sister-in-law is his only family aside from us and the former crew of the _Enterprise_."

"Beverly's old senior staff friends you mean: The Trois, Geordi and that lovely Klingon fellow."

"Worf."

"Such a polite man."

"He was an Ambassador for years." Kathryn rubs her hand slowly over her stomach, wishing the twisting sensation would calm. It's more foreign than nausea but it's nearly as pervasive.

"He was such a help with the set up."

"She's very close to all of them."

"Like your crew." Gretchen takes potatoes from the cupboard and starts making her lunch. She wanted Kathryn to stay, but relinquished when Kathryn mentioned the opera.

"It's different than _Voyager_."

Beverly wasn't the captain, the senior staff were closer to the same age, her ship wasn't stranded and no actions of Beverly's took everyone else away from their families. Will, Deanna, Geordi, Worf and Picard are more like siblings than Tom, B'Elanna, Seven and Harry can ever be to Kathryn. They're too young and she was their captain for too long. She should ask Picard how he does it, because he laughs more with his crew than she does.

Gretchen glances at the old wall clock. "You'd better head out if you're going to make it home, change and then all the way to Berlin in time for your show."

Obediently grabbing her jacket, Kathryn gets dressed for the winter with relief. Pulling her hat and mittens on, she returns to the kitchen to say goodbye.

Gretchen hugs her again, holding her tight. "Have fun, grovel, try to bring Picard by the house if you can. I can come up to San Francisco if it's easier. Oh--" she smiles, realising. "Think I could see the ship?"

"The _Enterprise_?"

"She's a marvel of engineering Kathryn, I'd love to see her warp nacelles from the inside."

Kathryn ties her scarf around her neck, muffling her mouth. "I'll see what I can do." Jean-Luc's too much of a gentleman to be anything but kind with her mother's requests. She supposes they'll get along but she's not sure why they need to. Jean-Luc is Three's father but it's a different definition of the term than most would use. She's so edgy lately that she writes it off as that and smiles behind her scarf.

"Love you."

Gretchen hugs her tight, then kisses her forehead. "I love you, sweetheart. Your father would be so proud of you."

Kathryn escapes out into the cold before she can tear up in front of her mother. She doesn't know what her father would think, nor does she know what she wants him to say. She skips the first transport point and walks the kilometre down the snowy road to the next, just to clear her head.


	3. Chapter 3

"She thinks I don't know." Beverly explains to the comm screen behind her as she brushes out her hair so she can pin it up. "If Katharine and I hadn't already been talking about sharing some of my duties when Three arrives, it could have taken me months to find a replacement for my position. You can't just assign anyone to be head of Starfleet Medical."

Deanna nods in the screen. She's been going through a box of cultural artefacts, trying to decide what the _Titan_ will do with her gifts from the Haberluejin Consortium. She holds up a feathered hat, then rests it on her head. "We like to think we can fool our loved ones, even when we know we're going to be caught."

"Oh she's caught."

"This is all very hard for her."

"For her?"

Through the comm, Deanna fixes her with a counsellor's patient stare. "You're angry because she took a position without telling you about her transfer, and that's healthy. Marriage is a partnership, you both have to make compromises."

Beverly twists her hair around her fingers, pinning it up. "What compromise is she making?"

Deanna smirks and catalogues the next item, something that looks like a feathered stick. "She's being demoted, transferred away from the heart of Starfleet into the fringes of the Federation for something she felt was absolutely the right decision to make. She's being punished for dealing with the Romulans, when dealing with potential enemies is what got her home and promoted in the first place. That, and her wife is very angry with her. That's a great deal to carry around."

"I wouldn't be angry if she had just told me." Beverly tries her earring three times and barely resists the urge to toss it across the room when she pricks her ear with it.

"I bet that conversation would have gone very well. 'Hi, honey, I think I'm going to be all but demoted and sent to the far corners of the galaxy today, do you think you'd mind giving up your very prestigious position and coming with me?'" Deanna's impression of Kathryn's accent made Beverly smirk.

"She never calls me honey."

"I suppose admirals can't really sacrifice their image with terms of endearment."

Beverly chooses a different earring and leans close conspiratorially. "Calling her sweetheart makes her wince."

Deanna laughs. "Will likes it. The gooier the better."

"Why you two didn't get married sooner..."

"We weren't ready. You have an excuse, you didn't meet Kathryn until you were ready to get married. Will and I have known each other long enough to be ready and not ready several times over, though never really at the same time." Lifting a new piece of art, Deanna smiles, full of confidence. "It's hard for Kathryn to be wrong."

"She's worse than Jean-Luc."

"He'd be a good one to talk to, if you want more insight into the mind of a Starfleet captain."

Beverly nods, clasping her necklace at the nape of her neck. "He makes a good interpreter. He thinks Kathryn's just having trouble adjusting to having to follow orders again."

"She was living an ongoing trauma in the Delta Quadrant. She made a unilateral decision that nearly cost her crew their lives and their homes. It's possible she didn't tell you because she couldn't face that again. She believes this transfer is something she's inflicted on you and some part of her may think that she'll be putting you in that kind of danger again."

"You make it very difficult to be unreasonably angry."

Deanna smirks and leaves the table to get something from the replicator. The comm screen tracks her after a moment. "That's my job."

"I think I'm relieved. Running a station infirmary is much less work than Starfleet Medical. Less paperwork, less meetings, more patient contact, more time to do research myself instead of handing it off to other doctors."

"Changing positions was something you'd thought about."

Beverly digs tall boots out of the bottom of her closet and slips them on. "I had the luxury of a flexible schedule when Wesley was small. I'd like to have that again. It's easier to stay home with a teething baby when the whole Federation isn't waiting for you to cure the incurable."

"You do that so well."

Beverly stands, leather caressing her calves. She smiles at Deanna. "Thanks."

"You want to be home more."

"I can't be the parent Three never sees. I couldn't do that." Remembering how much Wes missed Jack brings an old tightness to her chest. "I couldn't leave Kathryn with the majority of the parenting either."

"That's not fair."

"No." Beverly stops, turning her attention to the screen and Deanna's too patient expression. "You think this is about Jack."

"This is about Kathryn not consulting you before she made a life-changing decision that affects both of you. The fact that Jack did that in the past and you're still thinking about it is about you."

"He told me he was taking a tour on the _Stargazer_. He and Jean-Luc worked so well together."

"And it was good for his career."

"It was." Beverly stares at her, waiting for the inexplicable tightness in her chest to have a cause. "He wanted to rank high enough that Wes and I could come with him on one of the new family ships when they finally decided it would work."

"And Lieutenant wasn't enough."

"It was."

"So he put his career first."

"Not first." Beverly takes her chair again, clutching the scarf she's intending to wear later. "Wes and I were very important to him."

"But he left."

"Of course he did."

"And you won't."

"Leave Kathryn and the baby?" Beverly shakes her head. "Absolutely not."

"So Kathryn taking this assignment tied your hands."

"It's not a bad assignment."

"Is it what you'd chose?"

Beverly folds her arms, pondering that. "If I could chose anything?"

"Anything."

"The old _Enterprise_ , a few years in. I'll bring Kathryn along as the science officer and she can argue with Data about everything in the universe."

"They'd be horrible, wouldn't they?" Deanna smiles, echoing the quiet Data's absence has left in all of them.

"I wish he could have met Kathryn and he'd be so good with Three."

"He'd be adorable with a baby."

Beverly sinks back into her chair, holding her scarf in her lap. "Death makes life seem so much more important."

"The post-Dominion War baby boom suggests you're right." Deanna finishes her coffee and eyes her replicator. Beverly knows that look.

"Are you and Will planning on joining us?"

Deanna smirks over her hot chocolate then contemplates the question more seriously. "We've discussed having children but it's not a priority right now. Are you talking about baby Four?"

Staring down at her own flat stomach, Beverly winds her fingers into her scarf. "We planned on me going first."

"I wish Will and I could take turns." Deanna laughs, smiling into the monitor.

"Being pregnant can be an incredible experience."

Deanna's dark eyes narrow. "Is Kathryn still sick?"

"Less than she was. Now everything's uncomfortable, she thinks she's too emotional, which just makes her more emotional, and her gag reflex is overly sensitive."

"Well, that's less of an issue for you two, isn't it?"

Beverly holds the scarf to her mouth, eyebrows raised in surprise. She lowers it back and remembers that this is why she called Deanna. "Physically yes, there's less of a chance that I'll accidentally trigger her gag reflex during sex."

Deanna swirls her hot chocolate and grins that fiendish little smile. "So, well we're on the subject, what's it like to be on the other side of pregnancy sex?"

"Incredible." Beverly feigns leaving it there and Deanna waits her out; she knows better. "There's something uniquely intimate about it. With Jack and I, everything was a wonder to him."

"Now they're your wonders?"

"She believes me about as much as I did." The arguments and the amount of time Beverly simply ends up asking Kathryn to trust her aren't as heady as the fact that Kathryn does.

"You'll have to educate her when you have Four."

Resting her chin on her hand, Beverly smirks. "I intend to be perfectly unreasonable when I have Four, thank you."

"Good." Deanna leans in and Beverly can almost feel her brush her mind. She lets herself pretend the friendly gesture could reach across subspace. "We're on our way to Earth, so I'll be in comm range--"

"If Kathryn and I disagree about the purpose of marital compromise?"

Deanna rephrases. "Maybe when you disagree."

"Thank you. Tell Will I don't think you should alternate gestational duties until I've read up on it more."

"He'll be relieved." Deanna looks at her, then smiles again. "Troi out."

Leaning back in her chair, Beverly shuts her eyes and listens to the Maestro playing with something noisy in the living room. The rattling stops and his feet pad across the floor too softly for her to hear, then he leaps onto the desk with the grace of a shuttlecraft. He burbles for her attention, then slams his head into her arm. Stroking his fur, she imagines Three playing on the floor while Kathryn, all too sympathetically, reminds her that she likes being pregnant. Kathryn may even be smug in moments and Beverly wants to think she'll be too happy to mind.

"What do you think, Maestro? Should we ask Jean-Luc again? Chakotay? Will?"

Da Vinci purrs his approval of all three and walks in slow circuits on the desk so she can stroke him effectively.   


* * *

Kathryn has to get dressed in a rush. Beverly sets things out on the bed, taking Kathryn's uniform and dropping it into the laundry. Kathryn's too hurried, nearly pulling her dress on over the wrong bra.

"I thought you were coming straight home."

Kathryn winces, even though there was no chiding in Beverly's tone. "My mother asked me to come down for coffee."

Smiling at that, Beverly turns Kathryn around to slip the wrong bra off her back. "You finally gave in."

Kathryn jumps when Beverly rests her hands on her shoulders and Beverly grabs her, holding her close with her head on her shoulder as Kathryn's heartbeat races in her chest. "It's all right you know, the Borg aren't waiting to grab us."

Kathryn's warm hand grabs the back of Beverly's wrist and she releases some of the tension from her spine. "We're late."

"We're fine."

Da Vinci leaps onto the bed and walks across Kathryn's jacket before settling on it comfortably. He watches them both with patient gold eyes.

"See? Maestro thinks we're fine."

Kathryn squeezes Beverly's arm, fingers digging in with fear in her flesh. "Are we?"

Shaking her head, Beverly kisses her neck. "We can be fine while I'm angry with you."

Kathryn starts to wriggle free then stops, sighing. "How do we do that?"

"I love you and I still love you when I'm angry."

"But you--"

Beverly detangles them and and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling Kathryn down next to her and the cat, who backs up and resettles on the head of the bed. "What is it?"

Kathryn inhales and stares at the floor, still half-dressed. "I took a posting on _Deep Space 6_."

Rubbing her shoulder slowly, Beverly nods. "I approved the transfer of a new chief medical officer for you this morning."

Kathryn's head whips up, almost as if she's afraid Beverly's not going to be smiling.

"Second time I've done that, transferred myself. Have to get the interim head to sign off on it as well, but I'm sure she'll approve."

Kathryn reaches for her cheek, pulling her close before she hugs Beverly so tightly the Maestro is displeased at the shifting weight on the bed.

"You didn't have to--"

Beverly shakes that off, kissing Kathryn gently. "I did have to, and I don't mind getting rid of all the paperwork of being head of Medical I just wanted you to ask me first. Tell me before you make life changing decisions that effect both of us."

"I wasn't thinking."

Beverly nods, tossing Kathryn's grey uniform bra aside and gently replacing it with a flesh coloured one that fits under her dress. "One of your less charming traits."

"Beverly--" Kathryn grabs Beverly's hands and halts the dress going over her head. She's still unsure, almost fragile in her relief. "It wasn't, I wasn't, I mean- I think I was afraid to ask."

Beverly smiles and tugs the dark red dress down across Kathryn's shoulders, it spills around her waist. "I'm not Mark, or Justin or an egotistical young man who can't handle being second to your career. I am willing to make compromises because I know it's the only way this works. Sometimes I follow you, sometimes you follow me. You have to give me the chance to say yes, instead of worrying that I'm going to say no. Now, get up and let me fix this."

Kathryn reluctantly stands while Beverly eases Kathryn's dress on over her breasts and the growing roundness of Three in her belly.

"This might be the last time you wear this for awhile." She circles Kathryn to fasten the complicated back of her dress, tying ribbons through loops.

"Rub it in." Kathryn frowns at her reflection in the mirror.

Beverly straightens the bodice and smirks at Kathryn's breasts, which are nearly too much for the tight bodice of her dress, round and full. "You look beautiful."

"Why is it that never coincides with feeling beautiful?"

Kissing her cheek, Beverly directs Kathryn attention towards boots, her coat, hat, scarf and gloves. "Because the universe is unfair."

For a moment, pressed against each other, Beverly catches the shift in Kathryn's posture and if it were anything but this opera, she'd let them be late.

"Boots."

Kathryn sighs, pulling on her coat and letting Beverly slip her boots on to her feet. "Why is this in Berlin?"

"Because the entire universe has conspired to torture you." Beverly pulls her up, wrapping her scarf around her shoulders. "I do love you, but I may be quite angry if we miss this show."  


* * *

It's snowing in Berlin and more cold than Indiana was. Kathryn pulls her coat tight and holds to Beverly's arm as they hurry down the street though the people of Berlin. It's a busy, multicoloured place and the visiting opera makes it louder and she sees more Andorians than she has in the San Francisco. They don't mind the cold and walk around in what she'd wear in autumn at home. She wishes she had their immunity to the temperature but Beverly's warm and the snow sticks in her hair.

She can't train for this. No book she can read or formulae she can memorise will make marriage easier to understand. She can't help feeling as she did in the Delta Quadrant: that a vast, featureless void stretches in front of her that she'll never cross.

Beverly pulls the paper tickets from her coat and hands them to the ushers in the front of the ornate opera house. Her long fingers are encased in gloves and there's still snow in her hair. They slip through doors of wood and glass and exchanges coats for little metal discs that Beverly takes, amused by the nostalgia of not using thumbprints.

They find their seats, soft red velvet with golden numbers in the wood of the arms and Beverly rests her hand on Kathryn's knee, beaming as skirts and suits rustle around them as people find their seats. The tickets are excellent, dress circle so that the whole floor and the heads of the crowd: blue antennae and the white hair of Andorians, black-haired Vulcans and the more varied hair of humans and Tellarites. She spots a few Bolians and the bright copper hair and green skin of a pair of Orions.

Universal translators are off and the whispers around her are in many tongues, merging together like rain. It's strange and she could pull her communicator out of her handbag and make everything understandable but she likes the chaos. She can listen to the old languages and the alien ones and just let them be. Kathryn reaches for the hand on her knee and takes it, wrapping fingers around Beverly's.

Perhaps it's not the void, but crossing it alone she should worry about. Beverly's coming to the station with her, leaving Earth and settling down on at the edge of the map instead of staying in the middle of everything. She wants to think they'll both have more time. They're still have work but it'll be different work. The work of keeping ships exploring and families safe on the fringes of space; it is a challenge, something she hasn't done, but she'll have Beverly.

That makes it better, more tolerable, a void she can conquer. She'll need Tuvok too. Will Riker gave her a hard time and it's a promotion her old friend has well deserved.

Beverly leans across and kisses her cheek, whispering her thanks as the lights drop and the heavy curtain becomes the only point of light in the room. Kathryn should grab her opera glasses and lift them to see the translations appear on so she knows what they're singing. It's only mid afternoon in her time, but it's dark here in Berlin and she's been tired all day. She rests her head on Beverly's shoulder, chin on her hand, and listens to the orchestra raise the overture.

Beverly's attention is rapt on the show and her eyes shine. She's happy and the music is full of cheer. It's warm and comfortable; the opera company is obviously talented. Kathryn knows too little about opera to say if they are as good as Beverly claims but their voices are beautiful.

Will Tuvok bring his wife? T'Pel serves with him on the _Titan_ , will she follow to the station? Who's she going to find as a new chief of operations? It's been years since she broke in a crew and learned how best to lead them. That at least is a more cheering prospect. She loves the idea of having a crew, a family, again and she can't help wondering if Beverly does too.

There's no sense of community in the admiralty, they're all so wrapped up in their own tasks that the sense of family is absent. She was unhappy there, and maybe she hasn't truly realised that it wasn't what she wanted. Getting her ship home and losing it to join the admiralty isn't a victory. Perhaps it's a particularly intense case of empty nest syndrome. Everyone she saved went on with their lives and the rest were broken.

She can't fix that here, on Earth, sitting behind a desk. She can do something out there and if it's the ends of the Federation, so be it.

Beverly rouses her at the intermission, begins to ask Kathryn's opinion of the show before she laughs and realises she's the only one watching. She kisses Kathryn's cheek, scolding her as she disappears. Kathryn joins the queue for the toilets and embraces the idea of a new command crew. Her head of science is a young woman, human, an astrophysicist with a specialisation in solar flares. There was something in her personnel file about the _Enterprise_ , there's a remote possibly Beverly knows her.

Her new security chief is Andorian, part of a mated quad. That should be interesting. Two of her mates are civilians, but the last is a Starfleet engineer. Kathryn hasn't served with many married officers before. There's always a few but her assignments haven't been the ones married people take. The station is full of families because it's the resupply and relief station for the deep space missions to the fringes.

Is she ready to deal with families? Kathryn taps the toe of her boot against the wall behind her. She probably shouldn't be leaning against it, but her back's sore and her feet hurt and no one seems to mind. Without her translator, she'll have to find someone willing to correct her in standard and judging by what she can hear around her, chances of that are rare.

When it's nearly her turn, two smiling women wave her ahead of them. She blinks at them stupidly, not understanding what they're getting at. One of them smiles then guesses in German how far along she must be. Kathryn only knows a handful of words in old European languages but with hand gestures she manages to get the gist of it.

Thanking them and trying not to blush, she retreats into a stall and stares down at the toes of her boots. She should have told Beverly the minute she knew about the transfer. Maybe gone as far to be ready to resign her commission, take that position at Lunar Observatory she's been offered several times. Why is it always easier to know what to do in hindsight?

Kathryn washes her hands and holds them under the sonic dryer. She leaves them in for awhile, letting the sonic pulses massage her hands. Her boots have more heel than her uniform pair and she can't decide if that's making her back better or her knees worse. Maybe she should put that on the list of things to ask Beverly while she's not angry with her.

Returning to her seat, Kathryn glances through her program, scrolling through the notes without reading them. The costumes are exquisite and the sets have been used hundreds of times through the last six centuries and they're still in perfect shape.

Beverly returns, slipping past Kathryn into her seat and smiling.

"See? See why we had to come?"

"It's beautiful."

Beverly smirks and passes across a dish of ice cream that could possibly be coffee. "Look what I found at the refreshments counter?"

Kathryn sniffs it and smiles when it is exactly what she wanted it to be. "I don't have a hypospray."

"Coffee ice cream has no caffeine." Beverly has her own ice cream, which is a darker brown with chocolate chips.

"Double chocolate?"

"Chocolate hazelnut with chocolate chips." Beverly grins around her spoon. "I love Europe."

"We won't see it for a long time."

Beverly nods, then pats Kathryn's hand when the nod isn't enough to calm her. "We'll get leave eventually. There are a few little pubs on Caldos you might like and Deep Space 6 is big enough to have several restaurants of it's own. It may not have an opera company, but I'll survive. Somehow."

Kathryn squeezes Beverly's knee and stares at her ice cream as it melts around the edges. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I started a theatre troop on the _Enterprise_ , I can start one there. The important thing is not that we'll be in transporter range of opera houses with acoustics that put most of the Federation to shame, but that you and I, Three and Four, and Five--"

Putting up a hand before Beverly reaches Six, Kathryn blinks back the tears.

"You let Romulans invade the Federation for me," Beverly reminds her. "Moving to the last station in the Federation is the least I can do." She takes a bite of her ice cream then eyes Kathryn with mock seriousness. "Now, are you going to watch the second half? I can tell you what happened if you're ready to stop brooding and enjoy the show."

"Was it that good?"

"I forgot all about being angry with you."

Kathryn winces, because she was meant to, then smiles. "It is good."

"Remind me to thank your sister."

"I'm sure she'll remind me several times how thoughtful it was of her to get the tickets for me." Kathryn digs into her ice cream quickly, before it can melt further. She's just swallowed a bite when Beverly kisses her. Both their lips are cold from ice cream and Beverly tastes more of chocolate than Beverly but it's her and there's no apprehension, no accusation, and for the rest of the night, Kathryn enjoys the opera.

She even enjoys the snow as they walk back to the transporter hub. There's something magic it in now while before it simply annoyed her. Back home, with their coats over the chairs in the dining room and their boots abandoned wet by the door, Kathryn curls up with her head on Beverly's chest and not even the prospect of memorising the names of hundreds of new crew can ruin the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

Finally, behind the last stack of crates, Beverly spies the grey hindquarters of their cat and grabs him. He voices his displeasure, loudly and struggles, pressing claws into her chest and arms as she scoops him up. Eventually he settles, deciding he is trapped.

"Did you find him?"

Beverly drops him into the carrier, hindquarters first so he can't tell what's happening. Then she seals him in. He protests, again, even more noisily but he's caught now. She rests her hand on the open grating in the door.

"We're transporting in a few minutes, then you can sulk in our quarters all the way to the station. You'll love the station. All those starships for you to watch outside the window."

Kathryn appears through the mess of crates that is their apartment and crouches down next to her. "He is unhappy, isn't he?"

"The _Titan_ is beaming us up in a few minutes, he'll only be unhappy for awhile." Brushing fur from her uniform, Beverly looks over all the boxes. Some of their things they let go, a few were added to the ever-growing storage compartment they share on Luna, but most of them are coming with. Too many wedding gifts are irreplaceable, the tea set Jean-Luc found in a little antique shop, the orchids Tuvok grew for them, candlesticks, art; the rest of the accumulated debris of two people's lives intertwined.

"We should have gotten rid of more."

"Want to open them all and repack?"

Kathryn shakes her head and retreats to the sofa. "How is it all going to fit on the _Titan_?"

"We must get a whole cargo bay to ourselves. You are an admiral after all."

Rubbing her shoulders, Kathryn shakes her head. "I don't see why that entitles me to have more belongings than anyone needs to have."

"Blame me." Beverly sat down next to her, patting her wife's knee. "I like all our wedding presents and I'm glad we're keeping them."

"Unpacking's going to be brutal." Kathryn yawns, dropping her hand from her shoulder to her belly. She's been overly conscious of it lately and Beverly's waiting for her to realise what the strange sensation is. She doesn't want to spoil the surprise when Kathryn finally figures it out or put any stress on her to be more aware. Beverly remembers second-guessing every twitch when she was pregnant with Wesley. She'd rather save Kathryn from that, if that's even possible.

"You all right?"

Kathryn wrinkles her nose for a moment then nods. "How long is everything going to be uncomfortable?"

"Do you want the doctor's answer or your wife's answer?"

Sulking, Kathryn drops her head into Beverly's lap, feet up over the arm of the sofa. "Which is more sympathetic?"

"The doctor, unfortunately."

"Have you noticed that my doctor is incredibly beautiful?"

Running her fingers through Kathryn's hair, Beverly smiles down at her. "I hope you didn't talk to your EMH that way."

"He thought he was quite easy on the eyes but I'm really much more fond of you."

"It's my hair, isn't it?"

"I have a thing for redheads."

Beverly laughs, resting her hand over Kathryn's on top of the rise of her belly holding Three. "The EMH mark three can be a redhead, if you want her to be. They can also be Bajoran, Vulcan, Andorian-- the appearance is entirely open to modification, so they don't all have to be the same."

"Was that your idea?"

Flattered, Beverly idly strokes Kathryn's fingers. "I approved it."

"Are you going to miss approving things?" There's a hint of apprehension, but Beverly's laughter stops that.

"Yes, dear, I'm going to desperately miss PADDs lying a metre deep on my desk, the late night meetings, everything being a different kind of crisis, Federation Senators demanding personal favours and admirals. Admirals are the bane of Starfleet, you know that, don't you?"

"I know that. It's covered in admiral training."

"It will be nice to have a finite number of lives to worry about, everyone on a station is far easier to manage than everyone in the Federation." Running her hand slowly over Kathryn's belly, Beverly smiles again. "It'll be nice to deliver babies and treat Tarkalian flu outbreaks in the schools." She picks up the PADD that she's been idly reading when she gets sick of packing. It's a survival guide to the station, written by her own predecessor, who has politely informed her that she has much work ahead of her.

"Did you know, there are over eight thousand civilians on _Deep Space 6_ , which is well over capacity for a station that sise, with the crews of visiting ships and our own crew. I think my first request is going to be for more medical staff."

Kathryn starts to sit up, then changes her mind. "That's going to be my first denial."

"I thought so." Beverly skims through, trying to think like a bureaucrat. "What if I offered any medical personal waiting to ship out the option of responding to emergency calls and helping with overflow? It would help deal with the shortages reported by my predecessor. I'd like to be able to recruit civilians too. Some of the family members must have some medical training."

"Are you preparing for an invasion?"

"Deadly viruses, the Borg, the Dominion…" Beverly keeps reading. "Can't be too careful."

"We're flying into the middle of a mess, aren't we?"

"A crowded station, full of civilians who haven't seen their families in months, grumpy scientists, difficulty getting supplies, problems with resources, discipline, education--" Kathryn drags herself up, resting her weight on her knees. "Think we can fix it?"

"You, me, Tuvok and a whole senior staff we haven't met yet?" Beverly nuzzles her cheek, teasing a smile out of her. "I'm sure we can come up with something."

"Something." Kathryn looks about as thrilled as the Maestro, who reminds them occasionally that he's still incensed at his captivity. "Is Will cooking dinner?"

"I think so."

"Did you all eat together back on the _Enterprise_?" Kathryn has that longing look, the one she gets when they talk about the mess hall and the way some nights they were all in there, talking.

"Will likes to cook and cooking is more fun when you have people to eat it."

"So you did eat together?"

"We played cards more than we ate."

"Poker?"

Letting Kathryn attempt to shark Will could be fun, it should make the trip go faster if they have something to do.

"Deanna and Will have been known to host a game or two, Will's first officer, Christine, plays. Have you met?"

"It's possible." Kathryn's thoughts are already on the potential for poker games and Beverly's content to leave the conversation there where it's pleasant.

She traces the rooms of the house, saying goodbye to the kitchen, the living room, the balcony and the bit of the bedroom she can see from the sofa. It'll be put to good use by the next occupant. Kate's memories will fill the space after she moves in.

"Our first apartment."

"I'll miss the balcony but I can't wait to have the stars again." Kathryn takes her hand, softly sentimental. "When did the most important part of an apartment become the fact that you'll be there?"

"Marriage can be like that." Beverly toys with Kathryn's fingers in response, trying to decide if Kathryn's looking for confirmation or approval. "Just wait until Three's running around, knocking over all the breakable things we decided to keep."

"Maybe we'll need a cargo bay on the station too, just until Three's older."

"Could be worth it."

Kathryn drags herself off the sofa and paces, hands on her lower back. "Wesley didn't mind living on starbase did he?"

"He was lonely sometimes, but Starbase 34 didn't have thousands of civilians. Three will be overrun with children her own age."

Nodding absently, Kathryn turns around and surveys the room. "We're really leaving."

"You have a whole three weeks to get used to the idea on the way out." Beverly checks her _Lamprocapnos spectabilis_ one last time, then stops Kathryn in the middle of all their belongings. "I love you."

Kathryn beams. "I was thinking about that."

"Oh?"

"I think I might reciprocate your affections."

"That would be fortunate."

"I thought so."

Their comm badges chirp in unison. "Admiral, Doctor, this is the _Titan_ , we're ready to begin transport when you are."

Kissing her as she tugs her close, Beverly seals the apartment into her memory. They're ready. They can handle the next place.

"Acknowledged _Titan_ , go ahead." Kathryn steps back but keeps hold of Beverly's hand. "I love you, I love Three, hell, today, I might even love the cat."

"You always love the cat."

"I might admit it to others."

Beverly leans over and kisses her again just before the transporter takes them, washing Earth and the beginning of their life together into memory.  


* * *

After a day or two, Da Vinci settles in. He likes the bed more in the guest quarters of the _Titan_ than he liked the bed at home, but he stops giving them dirty looks from the corner, under the table. Kathryn wishes it were that easy for her.

Tuvok accepted his promotion with muted Vulcan joy. T'Pel will be joining them and when they tell her, she wants to hug both of them. She can't, so she smiles at them and holds Beverly's hand tight under the table. Will taunts her for taking his chief of security, and Deanna remarks that Tuvok's third pip has been a long time coming and everyone around the table is happy.

For some reason, joy slices through her defences more than her reprimand and as the _Enterprise_ stories come out, she retreats. She puts dishes back into the replicator until she runs out of those, and then she paces Will and Deanna's quarters. Their collection of art is impressive and seeing how they fit it all in their quarters gives her hope for her and Beverly. Maybe they'll have more than a path after all. Still, she's less than steady. Being the visiting admiral means she can't walk the corridors without stiffened backs and the polite mentions of her rank. They're Will's crew and they reflect their captain, disciplined but easy-going.

What will the station be like? Does she have it in her to take thousands and make them her family? _Voyager_ had Naomi, this station, her station has thousands of Naomis. Children waiting for their parents to come home, teenagers attending school with both parents on long-range missions: she's hasn't had families on that scale. If the report says resources are scarce, than it's worse on the station than she thought. They scavenged for supplies on _Voyager_ , bargaining and trading. Who does she have to trade with out there? A scattering of small colonies? The non-aligned races out beyond the fringe?

The Romulans? They're out there, but it's just as much the end of their maps as it is hers. There's no neutral zone out there, only a sensor net and a fuzzy line on the map delineating the Empire and the Federation. Do they have scientists out there? Space stations full of families?

Deanna and Beverly are both laughing when she looks up. Kathryn nods to Beverly that she's all right, but she can't still her mind. Deanna knows and Kathryn has to remind herself that a half-Betazoid can see through her armour better than Beverly can.

"Has anyone show you the new adaptive shield emitters on the Luna class?" Will watches her, smiling. "They're really quite remarkable. Top of the line technology."

It's a better hook than 'my wife can hear your thoughts and you need counselling'. Kathryn glances at Beverly again. "No, no one's showed me the adaptive shield emitters."

Will waves to the door then falls in step next to her. They head down the quiet corridor, Will's smiles at the few crew members they pass soften the glances that follow Kathryn. They talk about nothing, whether or not Beverly will start a theatre group, if Earth's Parrises Squares team will finally beat the Andorians.

He leads the way into shield control and dismisses the ensign on gamma shift with a wave. "Our ships are always a wonder, aren't they?"

"The best ship in the Federation always depends on which captain you ask."

"Today you'll have to allow me the courtesy of having it be mine."

"Fair enough."

Nodding, Will offers her the chair at the controls. "How's baby Janeway?"

"Three's fine. She's--" Kathryn frowns, then looks up at him. She has to tell someone, maybe telling Will should keep her from feeling like she's crazy. "I think she's moving."

"I hear they do that."

"Beverly said she would, soon but I shouldn't worry about it. I meant to ask but I let myself get distracted."

Will leans on the console, grinning. "So you worried."

"Wouldn't you if something was moving inside of you?"

He glances at his stomach and nods. "You and Beverly talked about Odan?"

Kathryn's not sure how that's relevant, but she's glad for the distraction. "He was a symbiotic life form, related to a Trill. She fell in love with him but his host died. You carried him for some time, didn't you?"

"A few days. He moved."

Kathryn takes the chair, spinning to watch him. Maybe it's because they're talking about it, but she's aware of the baby moving, nudging her from within. "A symbiont is bigger than Three is right now."

"Less bony, but Three's going to get bigger."

His expression is entirely sympathetic, but she can't help wincing. Three has a long way to go still and the next few sizes of maternity uniforms don't leave much room for optimism.

"Beverly's going to be thrilled."

Kathryn shrugs, moving her hand lower. She can't feel it through her abdomen and that just makes the sensation stranger. "She knows."

"Deanna knows nearly everything I know, but that doesn't mean I don't tell her."

She hadn't thought of that. "Aren't you just repeating yourself?"

"Depends on what I say, doesn't it? Knowing something doesn't take away its wonder."

She hears Jean-Luc in that and smirks. "You never bothered with philosophy at the academy."

"I grew up." Will tilts his head towards the service corridor behind the main station. "If you're up for it, you do really have to see these."

"It's fine." She takes his hand when he offers it. "How did you deal with Odan?"

"Most of the time I wasn't me. He piloted, if that makes any sense." Will leads the way into the secrets of his ship and Kathryn listens to the hum of EPS conduits in the walls.

"And you and Beverly--" Beverly told her the whole story, how it was Odan, not Will and even the scent of him was different.

"If you want, I'm sure Deanna and I could arrange something with both of you."

Kathryn searches for the joke, but Will has his poker face up. "Are you suggesting I might be jealous?"

Will laughing saves her from having to think too much about any sort of unorthodox way of alleviating her jealousy. "It's the Betazoid way." He pops off a panel and crouches in front of it. "See this? The way the lasers guidance is always remapping the orientation of the shield matrix? The entire hull is peppered with these, letting us modulate the shields six times faster than an older ship."

"Like an Intrepid class?"

"Oh, I'd never dare insult your former ship, Admiral."

She'd fight him, but it's so much easier just to enjoy it. To let random moments of insanity pass her by and stare into the flashes of light that keep the shields strong. "It's beautiful."

"And unique to the Luna class, so far at least."

"There's a Luna class in the Ninth Fleet, _Theia_."

"Captain Jol Luttress, great cook, terrible poker player."

"You love terrible poker players."

He leaves the panel open and sits on the floor across from it, patting the deck at his side. "I'll help you up."

"Just don't taunt me for needing it."

"Have I ever taunted--?"

Kathryn laughs the end of his question away and sits next to him, watching the spots of light dance inside the shield emitter. "I liked watching the warp core on _Voyager_ , there was this catwalk on the second level of engineering. I'd go up there and listen to the hum."

"I like it in here because no one finds me. No one walks by and has a question for the captain, I can hear the hum of the conduit behind the wall and it's not far from the turbolift, just in case."

There's no rhythm to the shield emitter, but it's the chaos that's so intriguing, like watching a crystal twist in the sun.

"Beverly loved Odan, and she let him go."

"Well, Odan was a she when Beverly let her go, and she doesn't show any signs of getting rid of you any time soon."

The bluntness of his statement calms her. He's exaggerating to make a point but she needed to hear that. She had to know.

Kathryn turns, looking not quite at him. She has to know. It's the kind of curiosity that tingles. "What was it like, being in love with her?"

"For Odan, incredible, for me, confusing. I love Beverly, she's the closest thing I have to a sister and I've seen her nearly every day for fifteen years. I hadn't loved her like that, not until Odan was in me. She was so different with him, so vibrant, so torn by what was happening. When he was gone, Beverly was who I knew her to be again. Everything about her I'd loved, that Odan had loved, didn't have the same call to me that it did. I could walk past her without wanting her and she was my sister again. Deanna says the emotional parts of our attraction to others increases our physical responses. When Odan was in me, his attraction was my attraction, now that he's gone, Beverly is just Beverly again.

"Not that she isn't beautiful."

Kathryn's strangely pleased with that. "She is."

"And she loves without reservation, you have to know that."

"It's a little intimidating."

Will meets her eyes, patient and open. "Only if you let it be."

"Is it like that with Deanna?"

"Deanna is part of my soul. She was for years but we didn't embrace it, didn't fully realise what we could have. There are no reservations with a Betazoid, there's nothing to hold back. Falling for her, being with her, It's like deciding to truly be free. Developing warp drive."

"You don't think we should stay in the solar system? Make sure we're ready for what's out there?"

Will shakes his head. "Being in love is like sitting in the big chair, the whole universe is out there. It might be dark, it might be incredible, but you have to see what's out there."

"Even when it terrifies you?"

"Especially then."

Kathryn brings her hands back to her belly and the slow nudging of Three swimming inside her. "She's following me across the quadrant."

"Your station in the middle of nowhere is a challenge. Beverly loves a challenge."

"I didn't ask her if she wanted it. She says it's all right, all's forgiven but--"

"Ask her next time."

"That's it?"

"That's all she wants. You didn't ask her this time and she was good enough to forgive you, what can you do but ask her next time?"

"Simple."

"If you want a complicated answer, try Deanna, but be warned even she gets harsh when you need her to be."

Kathryn catches the hint of a loving threat and smiles, both irritated and grateful for his advice. "Did I need you to be harsh?"

"Aren't you always harder on yourself? I seem to remember a certain cadet at the academy being far too serious for her own good."

"I passed, didn't I?"

"I beat you in tactics and spatial combat."

"I didn't even think I was going to use tactics or spatial combat."

"I'll still beat you."

Kathryn laughs, trying to find a comfortable way to pull up her knees. "You did, though you made it to captain a little later than you planned."

"You try leaving the _Enterprise_ , damn ship sucks you in."

"Jean-Luc's happy there."

"Jean-Luc Picard is a man who belongs in that chair. Even I couldn't get him out of it and believe me, I tried." Will tilts his head, rubbing his beard as he toys with something on his mind. "How involved is he going to be, with Three I mean?"

"He's taking some time off, originally he was coming to Earth but--"

"I'm sure he'll love getting to see the station."

"Beverly says sometimes you need all the help you can get with a baby." Kathryn's grateful he's coming, if surprised. Sometimes she wonders if Ensign Wildman felt the same way, when surrogate parents emerged from all corners of the ship. They could have had an unknown donor and they would have managed, yet in an odd way, she's glad it was Jean-Luc. His steady presence is a comfort to both of them.

"I hope you'll have pictures of that. He told me how much he hated children the first day we met."

There's none of that apprehension left when they talk about the baby. Jean-Luc must have found his peace with children somewhere along the way.

"He won't hate Three, he wouldn't dare."

"Just think, when Three starts getting all rebellious and teenaged, you can ship her off to bother him on the _Enterprise_ for a while."

"There's a thought." She drops her legs to the deck and crosses them, wishing she could somehow unknot the kink in her spine.

"Are you two going to call on him again when it's time for Four?" There's a gentleness on his face that tugs at her heart.

"Chakotay offered." She tries not to hesitate, but the thought catches anyway.

"He'd make a beautiful baby with Beverly's genes. Imagine her cheekbones with his eyes." Will looks into her like he's as much Betazoid as his wife. "But?"

"He might want his own family. He's never wanted to marry his ship."

"Jean-Luc's a rare soul." Will looks back into the dancing lights of the shield emitter, then returns to meet her eyes. "If you want to vary your genes a little, Deanna and I are more than willing to share."

Kathryn blinks at him, warmth spreading through her chest. "You would?"

"My genes and Beverly's? That kid would have it made."

"If a little short of humility."

"You can always teach humility." Will tosses her the same grin that was the death of her in the Academy. "There's a few things that are better inherited."

Kathryn reaches for his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you."

"Of course. My DNA is yours."

"That's not an offer I get every day, though, we have had a few."

"All charming candidates, I hope?" He gets to his feet, lowering her both hands to help her up to hers.

Kathryn doesn't need it as much as she appreciates it, but that makes it no less welcome. "We're overwhelmed by all of you."

"Good. Family should be like that, absolutely overwhelming then sweet, when you least expect it."  


* * *

Will and Kathryn end up taking a tour of most of the ship and Beverly and Deanna are both yawning when their spouses come back. Kathryn takes Beverly's hand, kissing the back of it with one of her more adorable smiles.

Will and Deanna bid them goodnight, and Kathryn drags her away from the sofa and towards the bed.

"You're in a mood."

"Will cheered me up."

Beverly smirks as Kathryn's gaze noticeably lingers on her breasts. "Amongst other things."

Kathryn stands on her tiptoes, kissing her until the pressure of her body sends a flush through Beverly's skin. "Will offered to father Four, when we're ready."

"Deanna mentioned it."

Kathryn's hands eagerly slide down the zipper hidden on the side of Beverly's dress. For the last few weeks, Kathryn's interest in sex has been nearly equivalent to her interest in food and Beverly's not one to complain. It's been years since she spent mornings lying in bed, sex-dazed and content.

"I like the idea."

Beverly squeezes Kathryn's breast through her tunic and nuzzles the side of her neck. "Do you?"

"Chakotay had a non-relationship with me for seven years and a failed relationship with Seven, I'd like him to find someone more like you."

Untying the back of Kathryn's sheer tunic, Beverly nods. "Well, I can see why you'd want everyone to date someone like me."

Kathryn unlatches her bra, pulling it free in revenge. "Would it be strange for you, having Will's baby?"

Taking both of Kathryn's hands, Beverly kisses them in turn. "Having your baby will never be strange to me, no matter who you pick to be Four's father. Will and Deanna would be excellent non-binary parents."

"Non-binary parents?"

"It's the term in the Starfleet literature for parenting arrangements that exceed the traditional two parent model of monogamous paired species."

Sliding her own top off, Kathryn tries the word a few times on her tongue. "I'll try it on my mother."

"It's mathematical, she might appreciate it."

Stripping off the rest of her clothing, Kathryn climbs naked over Beverly's legs, the softness of her skin brushing against Beverly's chest.

When she's in a hurry, Kathryn attacks love-making with a singular purpose, as single-minded as their cat when he's seen something he wants. There's something electric to it, being desired so greatly that other concerns, like finishing a conversation, are secondary. Depending on each of their stamina on that particular day, sometimes it's a rush to orgasm, panting and damp. Tonight has a softer touch, after the rush to be skin to skin, they're calm, contemplative, even awed by each other.

Kathryn guides Beverly's head to the space between her breasts and the growing swell of her belly. "Three was moving." She whispers it up into the darkness of the bedroom, almost as if saying it in the light might make it disappear.

Beverly kisses her belly, full of warmth exceeding the leftover heat of release. "Strange, isn't it?"

Propping herself up on her elbows, Kathryn stares in wonder. "I didn't know what it was."

"I called Wes parasite when I was tired."

Kathryn's eyes widen. "Parasite?"

"He felt like one." Beverly leaves her hand on Kathryn belly and curls alongside her, close enough to kiss her lips. "You thought I knew, didn't you?"

"You know everything." Kathryn turns her head on the pillow and Beverly fidgets with a lock of her hair. "Part of me thought you'd tell me when it was."

Kissing that thought silent, Beverly reaches for the sheet and pulls it up. "It's incredible when you think about it, isn't it? Three moves on her own."

"Is it midnight yet?" Kathryn rolls over for the chronometer. "Is he a he today?"

"Tomorrow."

"If it's midnight--" She rolls back, satisfied. "He moves on his own."

"It'll go so fast."

Kathryn wants to argue, but she rests her cheek on Beverly's shoulder instead. "When will you be able to feel him too?"

"A few more weeks? Maybe less. Tuvok might be able to feel Three sooner than I. Vulcans have a very advanced sense of touch."

Kathryn's hand trails across Beverly's breast, fidgeting.

"What if I want you to feel Three first?"

"I don't mind--"

"I want you."

Beverly sits up enough to kiss her. "You have me."

Kathryn snuggles closer, content. Beverly runs her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down.


	5. Chapter 5

Two hours before the formal handover, Kathryn finds the crate on her desk in her new office. It's unlabelled and she opens it without thinking, she has a PADD full of things that all need to be addressed immediately so she opens the box. The shipping label reads a a non-aligned transport so it could be anyone. Inside, wrapped in a angle sheet of paper is a book.

Setting her PADD down, Kathryn lifts the book with both hands, turning it over to read the cover. She doesn't understand the script, but the illustration is a beautiful rendering of a small child sitting under a huge tree with red leaves. The grass is silvery and it's obviously an alien or fantastic world.

Real books, especially children's books, are rare indeed. This is in beautiful shape, expertly bound and it smells faintly like the Maestro's studio. Someone put care into choosing it. She opens it up, paging through. The story revolves around a young girl, a magical flying quadruped, and some sort of mystical instrument with additional magic powers. She wishes she understood the script and wonders how she can scan it into the computer and run it through the translator when the scrap falls from the pages and flutters to the desk.

Like the book, it's a note on paper that someone has written neatly with ink, like the reports she wrote on _Voyager_ in her precious holodeck time. Kathryn rests a hand on her belly while Three twists or turns over. She can never be sure what's really going on inside, just that she feels everything now.

The note has two strings of numbers: spatial coordinates, most likely. She's still holding it when someone clears his or her throat.

"Admiral Janeway?"

"It's a late wedding gift I think." Kathryn hands the book to Tuvok, still staring at the note.

Tuvok takes the book, tucking the PADD he was carrying into his elbow. It's his first day in command red but she thinks it agrees with him. The third full pip certainly does.

"This book is in Romulan, Admiral. it is the story of a young girl, Bar'ara and her magical friend, a type of flying marsupial similar to an Earth opossum called a jeykthe."

"You read Romulan?"

"It is not far removed from an older dialect of Vulcan, I can decipher most things and a children's book is not difficult to translate."

She smiles at his ruffled pride. "Does it say who sent it?"

He searches the book carefully and then sets it down. "It does not."

"Nor the does the box it came in. It did come with this." She hands him the note. "Spatial coordinates?"

"Grid 8-4-2, a non-claimed region of space on the edges of Romulan control." He raises an eyebrow. "Do you believe someone is inviting you to this planet?"

"Perhaps." Kathryn runs sets down the note. "My security chief is on the station, correct?"

"Lieutenant Commander Maeute is currently on board, yes."

"I had hoped to meet her before I needed her, but no time like the present I suppose."

Tuvok lifts the book again and studies the text. "Caution is always logical."

Tapping her comm badge, Kathryn summons the security chief she has yet to meet to her office.

A few moments later, a tall, striking Andorian with curly white hair and a perfectly pressed uniform appears in her office. "Admiral Janeway."

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Commander." Kathryn extends her hand and the chief's grip is very firm.

"This book arrived this morning unaddressed. It is a Romulan fairy tale without any hidden meaning than I can discern. This set of spatial coordinates was placed in the book and appears to be handwritten."

zh'Askenten's smile reveals very white teeth, made whiter still by her deep blue lips. "Didn't know Romulans still communicated with notes, sir."

"I was similarly unaware." Tuvok returned the book to the crate it had arrived in. "I suggest we have both the book and the note delivered to the science lab for analysis, Admiral."

"Taitt's going to love that." zh'Askenten's left antennae kinks and Kathryn thinks it shows amusement. It's been a more than a few years since she worked closer with an Andorian and she's going to have to learn the emotions in antennae all over again.

"Lieutenant Taitt doesn't like a good mystery?" Kathryn's a little proud of knowing the reference.

"Her lab is everyone's favourite place to be, Admiral. We broke up a fistfight over a neutron microscope just last week."

Kathryn waits for an antenna to twitch or some other hint that her security chief is joking, but that seems to be a truth. "Fist fights in the science lab?"

"Too many scientists, too few microscopes, Admiral. Awards season rolls around and tempers flare like a Klingon bloodwine festival." zh'Askenten gathers the crate. "I'll make sure no one gives her a hard time."

"Thank you, Commander zh'Askenten."

"Maeute or chief, please, Admiral. If you call my mates and I all by our clan name you'll get tangled up in prefixes before you know it. I know it's not the human way, but it's a hell of a lot simpler." She pauses and both of her antennae whirl to face Kathryn. "Tuvok has made us aware of your preferences regarding 'ma'am', Admiral. I assure you, word went round."

"That was very kind, chief."

"I'll get back to you when Taitt and I have a report. Shouldn't take much time, Admiral." Maeute takes her leave but pauses in the door. "Please accept my congratulations also, to you and your mate."

Heat blossoms in her face but Kathryn smiles, touched. "Thank you."  


* * *

"We found traces of oxidised metals on the paper of the note, Admiral. For these compounds to be in the air, along with the concentration of iridium isotopes, provided the note is a direction to sector 8-4-2, it could only be Epsilon Volantis, an uninhabited star system on the fringes of Romulan space, well, the fringes of both of our space's, really." Lieutenant Taitt, a bright young woman with a warm smile, deep brown skin and dark hair she wears neatly trimmed, takes her seat again.

"Epsilon Volantis is four hours away by runabout," Tuvok says, nodding to Taitt in approval.

She warms to that, smiling back. She's a newly promoted department head, with only a few months experience and the mix of Starfleet and civilian scientists she oversees are not a patient lot. Kathryn doesn't envy her.

"Do you think anyone will be waiting for us there?" Maeute asks, looking first to Kathryn, then to Tuvok.

"Is there any history of Romulan involvement with Epsilon Volantis?" Kathryn glances down the long table.

Maeute answers. "It's geologically of some minor interest, the iridium there isn't very pure and it's too dry to support enough plant life to make a mining colony self-sufficient."

Lieutenant Command Ashmore, her operations officer, grins at the chief. "Shret help you with that one, chief?"

"He does have a perfect memory of all his little planets."

Kathryn recognises the thread of amusement and she catches a glimpse of Beverly's curiosity. She'll get to known them all in her own way and she's already intrigued by the mystery of the Romulan tale.

"Will you be sending an away team, Admiral?" Beverly gently stresses the 'sending', making sure Kathryn knows that leading the away team herself will be worth an argument or two.

"Commander Tuvok, you and the chief--"

"I'd like to go as well, Admiral." Beverly volunteers.

"Yes, Doctor?" Kathryn can play at titles too.

Sitting back in her chair, Beverly keeps her voice maddeningly level. "The book was addressed to both of us, Admiral. Tuvok and Maeute may not find the sender very communicative without me."

Kathryn glares at her because she can't argue. "All right, Tuvok, Maeute--" she stops on Beverly. She's called her 'Doctor Janeway' before, but never somewhere as formal as this, and frequently in jest. She can't call her Beverly without setting her wife apart from the rest of the senior staff. Is she ready to do that? Should she call them all by their first names? She'll have to decide sooner or later.

"And Doctor Janeway, you'll take a runabout and check the planet for signs of our mystery gift-giver. Now, Mr. Ashmore, you had a supply and requisitions report to go through?"

She remembers him from _Voyager_ as one of the more easily redeemed _Equinox_ crew members. She recommended him for his first promotion when they returned and his service record reports that he earned the next very quickly after that. His department is running short on most things and has the oddest surpluses but there have yet to be any engineering based riots.

Beverly reports that medical is well prepared for emergency situations but suffers from a shortage of staff to deal with day to day difficulties. There are thousands of children on board and children are often ill with minor ailments. The two obstetrics nurses are so busy that T'Pel, who has only arrived today, already has patients of her own. Beverly presents her idea to recruit civilians with the proper training into medical on a rotating basis to the other department heads who agree. Operations could benefit from something similar and it seems that one problem may have a solution.

Taitt's report on the state of the science department is the most dismal. Between civilian needs and Starfleet use, the science labs see four or five times the use they were meant to. People work through the night and the restaurants near the labs are all open all night. Kathryn listens and finds herself shaking her head in disbelief.

She knew some ships had it better than others. The _Al Batani_ was always a little overcrowded and the _Bonestell_ never had perfect gravity plating, but those are minor complaints compared to this station, where everything is stretched and drawn thin. Three chooses the meeting as a good time to bounce from one side to the other of her fleshy home and Kathryn tries not to visibly wince, hopefully keeping others from noticing. Beverly keeps smiling, so she's not doing it very well.

When they're finally done listing everything that needs work, they've gone over the allotted time by most of an hour.

"I hope to see all of you at the reception tonight?"

Affirmative nods roll through the room. Kathryn had hoped to avoid something too formal, but the bartender of insisted and she really does need to start getting to know all of them.

"Thank you all, dismissed."

Beverly lingers, leaning on the table as everyone else leaves. "You wanted to lead that away team."

"Of course I did."

Sympathetically patting her shoulder, Beverly tries to soften her disappointment. "Taking the baby to unknown planets is frowned upon by your doctor."

"Doctor Janeway is a little strict."

Beverly smirks. "She has to be. Besides, the book was addressed to both of us, hopefully I can serve."

"What do you think it is?"

"A clandestine rendezvous with a mysterious connoisseur of Romulan childrens' books?"

"Perhaps." Kathryn puts her hands on her hips. "Things are never easy, are they?"

"They're a good staff. Taitt helped save the _Enterprise_ you know."

"And Ashmore's only done stellar work since he returned from the Delta Quadrant."

Beverly leans closer. "Have you met any of the other Askentens?

"No, have you?"

"Shret, he's the geologist, dropped by sickbay to welcome me personally. Sweet man, very easy-going."

"Maeute's service record is nearly as long as Tuvok's. She's been in Starfleet since before I was born."

"The white hair really hides the grey, doesn't it?"

Kathryn flicks her eyes towards the ceiling and waits for Beverly to be serious. "I'm not going to be able to argue with her much, am I?"

"No, and I love her already."   


* * *

Jubiel, owner of the Q.E.D., has a smile that would do Guinan proud and an ability to continue conversations that Data would have found fascinating. The Q.E.D. has a quaint, scientific theme, with the walls covered with archaic tools of the many trades of science and some of the drinks arriving in beakers and test tubes. Kathryn, Beverly and the rest of the senior staff, including families and partners, are up on the third balcony, making short work of a buffet spanning several worlds' cuisine.

Beverly explains the dishes she knows to Kathryn and has to ask for help for several of the Andorian ones. Gnoe, another one of the quad, a man with a calm demeanour and sturdy-looking hands, is part of the operations department. A rare enlisted man who found a position he liked and kept it. He's been a sergeant on this station for nearly three decades.

He introduces them to Emor, who's an astrophysicist with stunning gold eyes. Kathryn's read more than a few of her papers and Emor is one of the more beautiful Andorians she's ever met, with elegant cheekbones and neat white hair. She's more than happy to talk about her work and Kathryn is caught, entranced for quite some time. The stray plasma clouds in this region of space are truly unique, prompting a steadily growing field of astrophysics.

Beverly drags her away eventually and they offer their greetings to T'Pel and Tuvok. It's good to see Kathryn with her old friend and Tuvok and his wife are conscientious and attentive to each other, indicators of a strong, stable relationship. Beverly spares a moment's thought on what she and Kathryn will be like after decades of marriage and smiles. Getting there should be an adventure.

Seeing Taitt again, grown so much into her own is lovely and Beverly stalls their progress this time as she hears about how Taitt got from the _Enterprise_ to a station in the middle of nowhere.

"Promotion." Taitt says, shrugging. "It's hard to turn down having your own department when they offer it to you, Doctor. I'm sure you know what that's like?"

"I shipped off on one of the very first ships to carry families, for my first department."

Kathryn demolishes another plate of hors d'oeuvres and listens patiently. They did make time for dinner before they left their quarters, but she's hungry again. Beverly tried a few and everything has been better than she expected. She ate well on the _Enterprise_ but Starfleet Medical had their own catering staff. Those buffets are something she will miss from her old position.

She tells her better stories from the _Horatio_ , Kathryn discovers the incredible baklava and they move on to Ashmore and the pretty Bajoran Beverly knows from her own department as Jabara Lys, one of her nurses.

"The Q.E.D.'s the place to go, Admiral. Most of the scientists head to the other bars so they can argue the nature of the universe most of the night, since they're over there, Q.E.D. fills up with fleet. They also make the best Ferengi Starduster this side of the galactic meridian, you'll see."

Beverly raises her eyebrows. "I didn't know you liked Ferengi Stardusters, dear."

"The admiral's been known to enjoy one, from time to time."

"And here I thought it was all simple drinks for you."

"You like Sumerian Sunsets."

"Deanna got me hooked on them."

"You can't call a Starduster complicated when you drink those."

Jabara and Ashmore are only too happy to watch Beverly and Kathryn bicker playfully so Beverly carries on until Kathryn is feigning her best death glare and Jabara is laughing into her hand.

Kathryn chooses drinks, threatening Beverly with the most complicated thing on the cocktail list, and Beverly wanders over the knot of Andorians, finally seeing all of them together. They're all quite tall by human terms and she feels short next to them.

"Is this your first?" Shret asks, tilting an antennae towards Kathryn as she waits for drinks.

"Her first, my second. My son Wesley lives on Tau Alpha C, studying there."

"Tau Alpha C is nearly as far out as we are and in an entirely different direction." Gnoe's antennae sag in sympathy. "You must not see him often."

"We have two daughters and a son attending the Academy, our second son follows Emor into science on Vulcan, our third son prefers literature and is on Bajor at the moment, our fourth son and third daughter both serve on Starbase 14, and our eldest two daughters live on Earth, both at the Andorian Consulate in Norway."

Maeute beams over her tea. "We have nine children and five grandchildren, so far. We're hoping for a few more before the end of the year."

"Nine," Beverly repeats. She's heard of large Andorian families and four parents would make it easier on everyone but nine children is still hard to imagine.

Kathryn arrives with some kind of juice for herself and a tall glass of a shimmering pink cocktail for Beverly. "This is a Skarovian Exterminatus."

Maeute leans over, her antennae quirking towards the drink. "Does she even want to know what's in it?"

"She's not going to." Kathryn insists, grinning.

"You're just trying to get me to bed."

"Yes."

Beverly sniffs the fruity concoction in her hand and returns Kathryn's smile. She can make out pineapple, something tart, something spicy and a few things she can't place at all. "Am I going to need a detoxification hypo?"

"Possibly."

All four of the Andorians watch as Beverly gingerly takes a sip. The seemingly still drink fizzes on her tongue, evaporating up into her nose. It's intense, definitely pineapple but she has no idea what else is in it. Her eyes water and she takes a longer drink.

"Wow."

"May we smell it?" Gnoe asks.

"Sometimes I wish would I could imbibe alcohol," Shret says, sniffing. "Does it taste much like it smells?"

"More tart than it smells, also heavier, if that makes any sense."

"Yes."

"No." Emor passes the drink back to Beverly. "How can a taste be heavy?"

"It's overpowering, or something intense enough to seem overwhelming."

She contemplates that, her antennae waving slowly. "A fair explanation."

"Thank you."

"Have you been mated long?" Shret asks, watching Beverly take another sip.

"Nearly six months--" Kathryn says.

"Almost a year--" Beverly says in unison. She looks at Kathryn, then back to the Andorians. "How do you judge? We were married in August but we mated before that."

Maeute's right antennae flicks up and she smiles. "We define mating as the beginning of our life as a quad. We engage in sex before that, of course, but it is not until we are bonded that we are a unit."

"We've been a unit," Kathryn replies, "nearly six months now."

The quad share a series of glances, all smiling at old memories.

Gnoe turns back to them first. "That was a pleasant time."

Maeute elaborates for her husband. "It is necessary for a quad to reproduce as soon as possible, as not all quads are fertile. We spend the first year of our bonding working towards that goal."

Kathryn nearly chokes on her juice. "A year long honeymoon?"

"I believe that's right," Shret says, tilting his head. "Yes. The comparison is appropriate."

"Well, darling, let's go. We have half a year to spend-?" Beverly looks to the closest Andorian, Emor, who answers without preamble.

"Having sex." She folds her hands. "It was very pleasant."

"You'd love that." Beverly says, before she realises what's slipped from her mouth.

Kathryn blushes just a bit and raises an eyebrow. "I told you it was strong."

Beverly lets her sip turn into a gulp and looks directly at her wife. "If I drink the rest of this, I won't remember a detox hypo."

"This is now my responsibility." Kathryn agrees, kissing her cheek.

"Excellent." She looks around at the all-too-sober Andorians, her head buzzing pleasantly. "So, how did you meet?"  


* * *

Maeute hands her coffee and Tuvok gives her an appraising look when she arrives at the runabout.

"Did the admiral remember her task?"

Beverly sips her coffee, letting it warm her fingers while it warms her throat. "Yes, but we didn't go to sleep right away."

"She took advantage of your inebriated state?"

Staring at the security chief, Beverly spends a moment trying to decide what this relationship will be and embraces what she imagines Deanna would do. Honesty is easiest.

"My wife is very interested in sex at this stage in her pregnancy."

"Lucky you." Maeute kinks an antennae in Beverly's direction and she assumes it's a wink.

Tuvok remains impassive at his control panel as they launch the runabout. "The periods of time while my wife was pregnant were very intimate time for us."

"Intimate and exhausting?" Beverly already has her cup half empty.

Tuvok doesn't answer immediately but Maeute does.

"Wasn't exhausting for me."

Beverly sinks into her chair and puts her knees up against the darkened computer panel in front of her. "You're zhen, you wore everyone else out."

"Have another baby, then you can exhaust the admiral."

"You were discussing that, were you not?" Tuvok asks from the pilot's seat.

If she were more awake, Beverly might have steered the conversation away, but coffee is the only thing between her and a very foggy morning. "I think we'll have another one when Three is around six months. That should give us some time to adapt." She finishes the thought in her head: _"without running out of time."_. Unlike Deanna, she can't count of Betazoid genes to give her the Phase and the fertility leading up to it. There are moments were she's acutely conscious that even the rejuvenation from her time on the Ba'Ku planet won't last forever.

"Humans can have such tiny families. One child, even two, seems so bizarre." Maeute gets herself another cup of coffee and brings Beverly one. "Aren't they terribly lonely?"

"They meet other children in educational and social situations." Tuvok sets the autopilot and moves to the science station to scan the space around them. "I am the only child of my parents."

"Me too," Beverly adds, leaving her chair to see if there are chocolate croissants in the replicator.

Maeute looks at both of them with pity. "I have thirteen siblings."

"Thirteen?" Turning from the replicator, Beverly shakes her head. "Didn't you fight?"

"All the time. Why do you think I joined security? I wanted to bring order to chaos."

"I appreciated the challenge security posed," Tuvok says, and the two of them swap war stories.

Beverly eats her breakfast and drags herself through the stack of PADDs she brought with her. Her infirmary is a mess, her storage spaces are overcrowded but still understocked. What is she going to do with three crates of osteoregenerators when she's short of hyposprays? She turns her staff's personnel files into a quiz and starts memorising their names. T'Pel will be easy, because she knows her. Jabara Lys is seeing Toby Ashmore and she comes from _Deep Space 9_ , she'll have seen combat.

Hopefully they won't be seeing much out here, away from anything anyone wants, but it's important to know. Doctor Luwin is from frontier planets, serving far colonies, maybe he knows how to deal with supply problems better than Beverly does. It's worth asking. Doctor Aemon is at the end of his career but he left a distinguished position on Earth to spend his post-publishing years working in the trenches. Doctor Mordane is from Ollukai Four, a world with seven gods, one for each of the moons. She's her paediatric specialist.

The _Enterprise_ had more physicians per population, but here she has a huge staff of nurses, assistants, lab assistants and operational staff. It still doesn't seem enough, not with the station running at capacity. She spends the rest of the trip drafting a letter to civilians she intends to recruit. She can't offer them much more than something to do while they wait for their loved ones but she remembers being idle waiting for Jack and how much that drove her crazy. This could work.

"Doctor Janeway?" Maeute taps her shoulder, drawing her away. "We're dropping out of warp."

Their mystery planet, Epsilon Volantis, is a rusty-looking ball in the front window. Beverly leaves her chair and her work and stands behind Maeute in the co-pilot's seat.

"Anything down there?"

Tuvok's hands fly over the controls and he brings a map of the surface onto the overhead view. "There are no bodies of water or signs that water has been liquid on this planet for some time. The air has a high enough concentration of oxygen to be breathable but it is fifty-four percent argon. Long time exposure is not recommended."

"We'll be quick." Maeute's relief at avoiding the EVA suits is written on her face.

"We cannot be quick if we do not know where to transport."

"Can you match the concentration of particles on the note with a particular area of the planet? If it had iridium dust there may be abandoned mines or caves."

Tuvok narrows the field of his scan and to all of their surprise, iridium is what narrows it down. "If the note was written on this planet, it could only have been written within this twenty-five kilometre area."

"Grid search?" Maeute isn't thrilled with her own suggestion, but it may be necessary. The surface temperature is thirty-five degrees, comfortable for Tuvok but highly unpleasant for an Andorian.

"There is only one significant cave, here. It would be logical to being our search there."

Maeute grabs a phaser rifle and her side arm. Beverly takes her own weapon and a tricorder. Tuvok programmes the transporter to retrieve them and moves the runabout into geosynchronous orbit. The three of them stand on the transporter and beam down in a neat triangle, phasers pointing outwards. The planet is dry and dusty with the scent of rust in the air. There's no sign of life or footprints and she holsters her weapon to start scanning.

"There's a large concentration of calcinite in the cave, if there are life signs, we won't pick them up from here."

Tuvok lets the chief take point, putting Beverly in between the two phasers and they head into the cave. They only have to round the first corner before they're stopped by flashlights and four figures.

"Doctor Janeway?" The voice is female and vaguely familiar. Beverly can't place who it is until she steps into the light. "I have to admit I expected your wife."

The Romulan woman wears a neat black uniform and a long cloak with a cowl over her head. She tosses it back and steps into the light of one of the flashlights.

"You were unconscious most of the time you were on my ship, but we have met, Doctor."

Tuvok's memory is quicker. "Vice Admiral Toreth."

"Very good, Vulcan." She glances at the chief and then at the phasers pointed at her. "My people have no weapons, I would prefer if you showed us the same courtesy."

"We can't see your people, ma'am." Maeute's not ready to trust her, but there's no threat in her voice.

"Should we all walk into the open then?"

Beverly turns back the way they came, this time Tuvok and Maeute both walk behind her, putting themselves between her and the Romulans. When they're all assembled on the surface there are four Romulans, the Romulan doctor she recognises as Veddra, who treated so many of the wounded after the disaster on _Deep Space 5_.

She smiles at Beverly, recognising her in return. "Are you well, Doctor?"

"Yes, thank you."

The other two Romulans, a young man and an older one with a few streaks of black left in his hair, hold up their hands and push back their hoods. Satisfied, Tuvok and Maeute holster their weapons.

"Thank you for the book, Admiral."

"Please," Toreth says, waving the formality away. "Call me Toreth."

"Beverly."

"Beverly," Toreth repeats, feeling out the foreign word. "And your friends?"

"Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Commander Maeute, the station's first officer and her chief of security."

"Doctor Veddra you know. This is Sub Commander Nivek, my chief engineer and Centurion Uskmal, my head of procurement."

"Forgive me for being blunt, why are we here?"

"I require Admiral Janeway's assistance. I thought since we had come to her aid before, you might be willing to aid us now. Please believe that this is not a calculated plot, simply the act of a concerned commander."

"Concerned in what regard?" Tuvok asks.

"This is not an important part of the galaxy, for either of our governments. I was transferred here, given this sector of control as a dubious reward for my brazen invasion of Federation space where I foolishly saved lives instead of endangering them." Toreth's bitterness is more amused than angry. "Not that I would ever disagree with the High Command."

"No more than we would with Starfleet."

Toreth's smile creeps into her green eyes. "I can't tell you my empire is weakened from the long war and that getting supplies to my ships is more difficult than convince a Ferengi to part with latinum."

"We can't agree that ours is a similar situation, not on the record of course." Beverly looks to Tuvok, who could overrule her if he wanted to, but he lets her keep control.

"Perhaps we could come to some arrangement? Nothing sensitive of course, but warp plasma is warp plasma and self-sealing stem bolts certainly are not going to be the end of the Romulan Empire."

Beverly extends her hand. "Don't suppose you need a few osteoregenerators?"

The elderly Romulan, Nivek, mimes for Toreth to extend her own hand. Toreth grips Beverly's fingers.

"How quaint." She pulls her hand back and taps it to her left breast in a fist.

Beverly repeats the gesture and it's less clumsy than it could have been. "I'll need to talk to the admiral."

"i was hoping to see her again. I assume this is protocol?"

Looking at the doctor first, Beverly answers. "Kathryn is pregnant. Protocol does not allow for her embarking on dangerous away missions. I'm sure you have similar restrictions."

"Of course, of course." Toreth keeps her eyes steady. "Perhaps we could come up with an alternate arrangement? You were able to restore the Starfleet officer who infiltrated my ship, Deanna Troi, to her original appearance after she was disguised as a Romulan?"

Beverly nods. "Yes."

"Am I correct that you would be able to perform a similar procedure to that the traitors used to sneak her onto my ship?"

"Disguise a human as a Romulan? Yes, I've done that before."

Toreth pauses, trying to make the connection. "Picard. Picard and the Android when joined Spock's rebellion. I saw their photos in the database. You do good work, Doctor. I propose that you assist my own doctor in turning me human, or Vulcan if that's easier, though how I'll remember not to smile is beyond me."

"I have limited experience in clandestine techniques," Veddra admits. "I was not trained by the Tal Shiar."

"Romulan to human is easy enough. You will miss your ears."

"Undoubtedly."

Maeute nudges Beverly's elbow. "Just so we're clear, Doctor, you're discussing disguising a Romulan Vice Admiral as a human and smuggling her back onto the station for secret negotiations with Admiral Janeway?"

Tuvok interjects. "You will follow the vice admiral at all times to ensure her safety, Commander."

Maeute shrugs. "That's what I needed to know, sir."

"Would you like the use of my sickbay or would you prefer to get blood on your runabout's carpet?"

"Tuvok and Maeute can return to the runabout and wait for me."

Toreth folds her hands together, not unlike Beverly's grandmother when she thinks about it. "Or they could join you, have a tour of my ship. I am asking for your trust, the least I can do is extend my own."

Maeute looks to Tuvok and Beverly follows her eyes. He contemplates the offer and nods. "We will visit your ship."

"Excellent, I'll have chef include the three of you for dinner."

Maeute slings her rifle over her back and steps in next to Beverly for transporter. "You have the most interesting friends, Doctor."

Green transporters take them all and Beverly wonders what Kathryn's going to say.  


* * *


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

"She refuses to give up the telescope and she is three hours over her allotted time, Admiral." Lieutenant Taitt, her petite science officer, taps her foot in frustration. "I know it's my job to make sure everyone gets use of the equipment--"

"You make sure they share."

"Yes, Admiral, and most of the time they do, but Doctor sh'Askenten is- difficult, Admiral."

"And you work with her wife."

"Yes, Admiral. I work with many wives." There's a hint of apprehension in her voice and Kathryn makes a mental note to try and keep her arguments with Beverly civil or at least out of her staff's hair. "I think you have to talk to her. Doctor Shishalan is already frustrated and Doctor Timordan is threatening to send another report to the Federation Science Council."

Kathryn frowns at her empty coffee cup and then at the clock when she realises how long she's supposed to wait for another hypo and another cup. At least Three is asleep, for the rare few hours of time when she does that. "I'll come down and sort it out, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Admiral."

Leaving her chair reminds her of the crick in the base of her spine and Kathryn is careful not to frown at the young officer. "So, you served on the _Enterprise_ , Taitt?"

"Yes, Admiral. I served on the _Enterprise-D_ until she crashed, then I transferred to _Deep Space 2_. This position opened up last year and I accepted the promotion because I wanted to head my own department."

The turbolift whisks them down from station operations, a round, bright room more panels than should be allowed anywhere, down to the science section which is decks upon decks of labs, telescopes and offices. She has yet to tour the full station, though she's been meaning to. Her day started with a failed stabiliser, two ships experiencing different types of engine failure, a primary school introduction for the new admiral (which included the announcement that Admiral Janeway Day will be in six months' time) and squabbling scientists.

"I served with Doctor Crusher, when she was Doctor Crusher, I mean. Doctor Janeway was in charge of my first shift on the bridge."

"Gamma shift?"

"Skeleton crew, the rest of the ship was down on a planet, looking for Commander Data and Doctor Cr- Janeway was in command of the ship. We defeated a rogue Borg vessel--"

"With metaphasic shielding and a solar flare." Now she remembers. "Beverly's still proud of that. With good reason, the Borg are pretty tough, rogue or not."

"Thank you, Admiral."

They only have to start down the corridor before they hear the raised voices. Taitt winces slightly and Kathryn pats her shoulder. "Maybe I should call security."

"They usually don't hit each other, just yell, a lot, but the deadline for a number of scientific awards is coming up and last year there was a riot in the radiology lab."

Kathryn puts her hands on hips and takes a deep breath. "Let's try and avoid that, shall we?"

Taitt opens the door. Five scientists, all yelling, surround Emor sh'Askenten, who stands in front of the long range telescope with her hands folded over her chest. She isn't yelling, so that's something.

Some of Taitt's staff, mostly ensigns, surround the chaos and Kathryn waves them back, heading straight for the middle of the melee.

"Everyone stop talking or I'll have the entire science section shut down."

They don't even pause and Kathryn puts her hands up.

"NOW!"

They stop, all staring at her with various degrees of rage. Emor is completely cool, the eye of the storm, so Kathryn starts with her.

"What's going on?"

"The long range telescope is blocked, which prevented me from doing my research."

"Blocked?"

"It's a long range telescope."

"How can it be blocked?"

"She's preventing me from finishing vital research--"

The voices behind her continue to go on and on until Kathryn turns, livid.

"Get out."

None of them move. One of them even has the gall to keep talking. She'd be polite if it wasn't already thirteen hundred hours, which is ninety minutes past when she intended to have lunch, and as she faces them all, she wants them all to scatter, like the squabbling puppies they are.

Kathryn drops her voice and puts the full force of her anger into every word. "If I have to repeat myself again, you will be confined to your quarters until I decide that any of you are responsible enough to be near my equipment, do I make myself clear?"

Taitt points to the door and the room clears of all but the relieved yet traumatised ensigns, Emor, Taitt and Kathryn.

"Tell me again about the telescope."

"It is blocked," Emor says, unflinching. "When I try to refocus it the telescope remains blocked almost as if the energy cloud is following the telescope."

"Following the telescope?" Kathryn rubs her forehead. "How?"

"I do not know. See for yourself, Admiral." Emor moves from the telescope, offering the display to Kathryn. In the middle of the screen is a vague cloud of green, like a plasma storm or a piece of a nebula.

"If I refocus to spatial grid 8-3-7, the energy cloud will follow me." Emor inputs the new coordinates and for a moment, there's clear space, then the energy returns, slipping onto the screen like an amoeba in a petri dish.

"How long?"

"One hundred-forty-three different attempts to refocus the telescope, Admiral. three hours, twenty-two minutes--"

Kathryn's known Seven of Nine long enough to raise her hand for silence before anyone gets to seconds. "What is it?"

"This telescope is a long range multi-spectrum observer designed to study stellar clusters. All I can tell you is that the energy cloud appears to be composed of a mobile plasma field and has an ambient temperature of three hundred eleven degrees kelvin."

"In empty space, with no shielding."

"Yes."

"Human body temperature."

"It appears so."

"What else can we point at that thing? How far away is it? How is it moving?"

Emor absorbs Kathryn's questions with a stoicism she finds familiar. "We have several other telescopes that may be of use. It is approximately four point three light years from our position and I do not know, Admiral. Perhaps another scientist is more qualified to answer that."

"All the other scientists are probably rioting in the corridor." Kathryn sighs heavily. Her rage settles down to a boil in the pit of her stomach but she's hungry and her neck hurts. Beverly's not going to be back until after dinner and that makes everything less tolerable. "Taitt?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Pick a few scientists you can trust not to start in with the sacking of the lab and have them assist Doctor Emor in her work."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Report to me when you have some answers. Doctor?"

"Admiral." Emor looks up from the console, barely tolerant of Kathryn's interruption.

"Why didn't you mention this to Lieutenant Taitt?"

"I did not have the opportunity, Admiral. I wished to collect enough data to be sure of my discovery and my fellow scientists did not understand my need for further study."

"Your need for further study--" Kathryn stops herself before she snaps. "Led to a breakdown of discipline in my science lab that I cannot allow. From now on, I need you to clear your hunches with Lieutenant Taitt before you commandeer equipment."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Thank you."

"Good luck, Lieutenant." Kathryn retreats back into the hallway, where she's immediately swarmed with what seems to be the entire scientific community. She holds up her hands, again, urging silence before she has to raise her voice.

"Doctor Emor has a discovery that I need tracked. You will be allowed to assist in that research project and that one _only_ until I am satisfied it does not pose a threat to the station. Do I make myself clear?"

When voices start, she raises both hands again, this time losing her temper. "If anyone wants to file a grievance, you all know where my office is. I have four more meetings, two planned crises and I plan on addressing grievances starting sometime next week. Anyone who wants to assist Doctor Emor may do so, everyone else, get off this deck."

She storms through the turbolift, grabbing the rail and leaning against the wall while her heart slows. What she wouldn't give for B'Elanna's nose breaking ability, or Chakotay's skill with crowds. The turbolift doesn't move and she remembers she specified no destination.

"Rec level five, dining area."

Maybe if she hides in the back of the replimat for lunch, no one will find her until Beverly gets back. It's a foolish hope, but she clings to it for the whole five minutes before her comm badge chirps and summons her back to reality.   


* * *

Toreth's hair is far too Romulan, and Beverly's still growing it out with a follicle stimulator when they leave Epsilon Volantis and start back to the station. She keeps running her fingers through her thick, black hair as grows steadily longer, trying to keep it untangled.

"Why do your Starfleet allow your military's hairstyles to vary so much?" Toreth asks, careful not to move her head. Her ears are rounded and faintly pink. Her skin is still a deep olive, but Beverly's fairly proud of the ears and the softening of Toreth's cranial structure. She makes a severe yet attractive human and the civilian clothes she took from her ship would let her blend in on Earth, if she wanted to.

"It doesn't affect our work to look different."

"Doesn't it affect morale?"

Beverly ponders the idea. "Not that I've noticed. Earth had some more strict regulations before our last world wars, and Starfleet has some rules about hairstyle, but with so many different species and types of hair it's much easier to leave it up to the discretion of the officers."

She circles Toreth's chair, wanting to get an idea of the length. Her hair is absolutely straight and jet black so that just above the shoulders is abrupt but appropriate. Toreth reaches for Beverly's hair and rubs a lock of it between her fingers.

"I've never seen a full blooded Romulan with anything but black hair."

"Your genome is very specific when it comes to hair type and colour, much like Vulcans, barring certain differences in skin pigmentation."

"We share those as well, though I have not seen a Romulan with hair like Mr. Tuvok's either. Odd that we should have so little genetic diversity."

Beverly puts her tools away, pleased with the result. "There's a mirror in the back if you want to see what you look like."

Toreth touches her forehead, running fingers across her now smooth skin. "I'm afraid I won't recognise myself."

"Your eyes are still yours, the lower faces of humans and Romulans are enough alike that I didn't have to change anything."

"Have you ever seen yourself as another race, Doctor?"

Beverly nods, remembering how much her antennae itched. "I was Andorian for a week as part of my advanced tactical training."

"Are there holos?" Maeute asks from her seat. "I'd love to see."

"Blue suits me."

"Did you have the motor reflex antennae that respond to your facial muscles?"

Beverly tucks her medical kit away. "They itched."

"One of my mothers was on the team that designed them. I remember wearing extra sets of trial pairs when I was young. Once I had on four extra pairs and I looked like a, what is it- a Gorgon?"

"A Gorgon?" Toreth asks.

"A creature from human mythology, woman with snakes for hair who could turn anyone she looked at to stone."

"A less than useful skill."

"She was beheaded."

One corner of Toreth's lips rises in a smile. "Who knew your myths were so brutal."

"The early mythologies of most cultures are full of violence. The Betazoids and the Grizzellans are notable exceptions."

"Betazoids." Toreth cringes, as if something's run cold down her back. "I don't know how you work with a people who can read your thoughts."

"We have to be very honest."

"The Romulan Empire would collapse into dust before we embraced that kind of honesty."

Beverly orders herself a coffee from the replicator and turns to their guest. "Do you drink coffee?"

"Not the Klingon swill. Is human coffee also like tar?"

"No, human coffee is much less viscous." Maeute offers her non-human opinion. "It's not bad."

"I prefer tea." Tuvok adds from the pilot's chair. "You may also prefer the more subtle flavour of tea."

"I will have tea," Toreth says to Beverly. "An Earth tea, please. I've never had one."

Beverly orders a cup of jasmine green tea and hands it to Toreth. "You don't have coffee on Romulus?"

"I don't think we've ever attempted to cultivate it. We have several blends of tea, because we are descended from Vulcans, who are a tea-loving people."

"Vulcans do not engage in emotional relationships with beverages." Tuvok's gaze remains forward. "Humans on the other hand, do frequently form emotional bonds to their food and drink."

"My wife loves coffee."

Maeute blows across the surface of her coffee. "My husbands are both obsessed with root beer, ginger beer, anything sweet and bubbly from Earth drives them both wild. My wife finds them both frivolous, but she's admitted to enjoying them as well. I like coffee."

"My good friend-"

"Picard." Toreth's eyes light when Beverly acknowledges the guess. "You must tell me of Picard, he's something of a legend among Romulan commanders. Square off with Picard and the _Enterprise_ and you could go weeks without buying yourself a drink."

"Picard loves his tea. Earl Grey in particular. You'll have to try that next."

"The drink of the menace to the Empire." Toreth chuckles over her cup. "My parents' ashes would twist in the wind if they knew."  


* * *

Eventually, Kathryn gives up and eats dinner in the meeting, devouring her pasta while her staff reports. If her station can't stop having a crisis long enough for her to eat, it doesn't need her full attention. Ashmore sits on her left with Beverly gone and Taitt sits to her right, next to Emor, who takes her chair like a queen.

"The plasma cloud appears to move of its own volition, Admiral, almost as if it were alive."

"Life is purely conjecture at this time." Emor rests her hands in her lap, letting Taitt finish her report.

"It covers an area between six and seven thousand cubic metres, large enough to engulf a starship, if one were to pass close enough. The cloud does not currently appear to be headed in any particular direction, but it is attracted to the guiding pulse used by our telescopes. Any transmission on that wavelength is immediately investigated by the cloud."

"Like a fish and something reflective." Ashmore's quicker to believe than Emor.

"Does it pose any danger to the station?"

"No, Admiral," Ashmore says, easing the knot in Kathryn's stomach. "The mass of the station is enough to repel any electromagnetic forces generated by the cloud. Smaller metallic objects, shuttles, runabouts and other spacecraft may be affected by the cloud's presence."

"You mean the cloud might decide a shuttle is more interesting than the guiding pulse of a telescope?"

"It is possible, Admiral."

"Why don't we launch a probe in the cloud's direction to see if that draws its attention more than a pulse."

Emor meets Kathryn's gaze across the table. "The probe may be ignored or destroyed."

"But we'll have learned something either way, won't we?"

Emor agrees to that with a nod, as does Taitt.

Kathryn looks to Ashmore. "Don't tell me we're short on probes?"

"We have several probe casings--"

Staring at her pasta, Kathryn spears a piece in frustration. "However?"

"We are short on the sensory components and thruster assemblies. If we were to mount a spare sensor net from one of the shuttle craft on a torpedo instead, we'd save a probe."

"Any reason the cloud might consider a torpedo a threat?"

Taitt shrugs. "We know it likes our telescope, for all we know, a torpedo might be a sign we want to mate."

Kathryn sighs, remembering when _Voyager_ had to lose her sex appeal to avoid an angry space-dwelling life form. "Let's avoid making any innuendoes, shall we?"

"We'll have a modified torpedo in a few hours, Admiral."

"Thank you, dismissed."

Emor lingers after the other two. Kathryn keeps eating, even though it's nearly cold, she's famished, just as she was yesterday. Maybe she needs to snack more or eat more for lunch.

"My husbands would like you and your wife to join us for dinner tomorrow. They are excellent cooks, and my mates are all gregarious and intrigued by the prospect of getting to know you both. The evening should be pleasantly diverting."

Kathryn swallows her bite. "You are not gregarious?"

"I am not." Emor maintains eye contact and her antennae turn inwards. "I am not fond of most social occasions, though I find you and your wife intelligent."

"Thank you."

"It would please us for you to attend."

"Including you?"

"Yes."

"We'll be there."

Emor nods and heads out of the room, leaving Kathryn with the last few bites of her pasta and a great swath of stars hanging outside the windows. Beverly's mission isn't exactly overdue, but Kathryn wants her back. Even the cat knows she's gone and he keeps looking at Kathryn suspiciously when she picks up paperwork or drops in to make sure he hasn't eaten all of his food.

Maybe he blames her for sending Beverly away. She's going to have to get over this, Beverly will go on missions and she'll stay on the station. It's her station, she can't send herself on away teams whenever she wants anymore. These people need her. They need order and a voice of reason, and stem bolts.

There has to be a better way to run supplies to the deep space stations than through a whole set of starships who take what they need and leave the rest for the fringe outposts. They have too much duranium, not enough conduit shielding and no one knows when they'll get the sensor nets they asked for.

Kathryn scrapes her fork over the last of the sauce in her bowl and leaves her chair to put it back in to the replicator. She wants cheesecake and she spends a few moments trying to decide before she takes the advantage of the moment of silence and retreats to her quarters.

The computer translation of the Romulan story book is on the PADD on the table and instead of unpacking or starting in on all the paperwork that's been piling up during the transition period, she sits down with that. Da Vinci curls up next to her on the sofa, purring contentedly with his feet beneath him.

Kathryn has to alternate between the beautifully illustrated pages and the PADD with the words, but she finds the strangeness of the story fascinating. There's a box bigger on the inside than the outside and angry steel creatures trapped inside their own armour that want to destroy everything that's not them. It's a fantastic tale, and she almost can't believe that the Romulans have such imagination, but she loves it.

It would make an incredible holosuite programme and she's half tempted to see if there's some way to find the Romulan version. Do children's holosuite programmes end up on the black market? Would Barclay know? Is this the Romulan equivalent to Flotter? Do all the Romulan children play it in all their free holodeck time?

The comm interrupts her, waking the cat who gives her a sly look before he stand and starts kneading the muscle of her leg. She twitches, hoping his claws won't dig into her flesh.

"Janeway here."

"Admiral, the runabout _Enheduanna_ has returned with a guest. Doctor Janeway would like your permission to bring her to your quarters."

"A guest?"

"Yes, Admiral. Doctor Janeway says she's an old friend from _Deep Space 5_."

Kathryn nearly drops the book. Da Vinci crawls into her lap and digs his claws in stubbornly when she tries to stand. "She said _Deep Space 5_?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"Tell Doctor Janeway to bring her guest to my quarters."

"Right away, Admiral."

Petting the cat gives her hands something to do and Kathryn's too dumbstruck by the idea that a Romulan is on her station, with Beverly, to do anything else before Beverly arrives with her guest in tow. The woman with her is certainly familiar, but she's human when her ears should be pointed and her hair is too long.

"Beverly?"

"Kathryn, you remember Vice Admiral Toreth?"

Kathryn tries to move the cat off her lap, but Toreth crosses to her, making it a moot point.

"What is this?"

"He's a cat, a domestic feline from Earth."

Toreth studies Da Vinci's huge gold eyes and tentatively touches his head. "Do you keep many large creatures?"

"He's big for his species."

"What is his purpose?"

"He likes to be scratched under his chin, like this," Kathryn says, demonstrating. She looks up at Beverly helplessly. "Does he have a purpose?"

"He allows us to serve his needs."

Toreth laughs and Da Vinci enjoys his petting too much to move. "He sounds like the gorbeh we had when I was a child. A big green lazy thing, he was."

"Sounds very similar."

Toreth strokes Da Vinci, shaking her hand as stray pieces of fur cling to it. "Did you like my book?"

"It's exquisite, thank you." Kathryn sets it aside. "But you're not here to meet the cat and talk about gifts."

"I have a proposal for you, Admiral, and you're the only human I can trust to listen to me."

"I do owe you."

"This is so." Toreth brushes her hands on her trousers and sits on the floor at eye level with the cat. "Could I have one?"

"A cat?"

"Yes."

Kathryn looks up at Beverly. "Does anyone here have a cat?"

"We can ask." Beverly shrugs and heads for the replicator.

"I'd like that."

"Vice Admiral--"

"Toreth, please."

"You disguised yourself as a human to ask for a cat?"

Toreth laughs again, a deep pleasant sound. "My apologies, Admiral Janeway, it's been a long time since I've seen a domestic creature."

"You don't visit your mother?"

"She died some years ago, fighting the Klingons. In the last incarnation of the Empire I could have never dreamed of a gorbeh on my ship, but with the new Empress, I doubt she'll have me executed for keeping a cat. Forgive me, I ramble. I need supplies, desperately. I assume you are similarly low on the Federation's supply list?"

"How did you guess?"

"There are no major planets out here, no Romulan starbases, and only a few scattered colonies with little to trade. We're last on the supply convoys and I can't tell you the last time my fleet has been recalled to Romulus. Before we sank to raiding the non-aligned colonies, I discovered you were arriving here and I realised we could be of use to each other."

"You want us to trade with you?"

Beverly passes Kathryn a cup of tea and hands one to Toreth. "It's a good idea, Kathryn."

"We can't--"

"Security of the realm, yes, of course. Some things are easily stripped of proprietary components, Admiral, and duranium is duranium, whether it's made in a Romulan or human foundry."

Kathryn's tea is too hot and she sets it aside. "You think that could work?"

"If it doesn't, I'll be stuck patrolling the far fringes of the Empire against flying ghost clouds with ships that are falling apart while your station suffers from a lack of proper probes."

Kathryn's lips part in astonishment. "You know about that?"

"There's not much to do out here other than watch the Federation indulge their scientific curiosity."

Waving that off, Kathryn goes back to cloud. "A green ghost cloud?"

"One that follows your sensors?"

Kathryn points at the table and the PADDs on it. "Beverly, the top one, left pile, please."

Beverly brings it over and sits down on the floor next to Toreth to read over her shoulder.

"We detected this plasma cloud this morning, it follows our sensors yet seems to have no real mass or direction."

"We've been calling it 'ahriman', which means evil spirit. It's not scientific, but we have no other explanation for it."

"How close have you gotten to it? Has it ever attacked one of your ships?"

Toreth shrugs her shoulders, almost as if she were as human as she appears. "We've stayed away from it. We're usually cloaked this close to the Federation and it doesn't seem interested in cloaked vessels, so far anyway."

"Is this ahriman in any of your texts?"

"Like your virus?" Toreth looks up. "No, there are tales of the ahriman, but they're as based in science as that book."

"Would you be willing to share a missing studying it? If your cloaking devices allow you to get close to it, we could--"

"You humans are so curious, aren't you? My ship has few scientists."

"I could lend you several."

"Scientists who wouldn't mind being on a Romulan warship?"

Kathryn can think of one she'd trust. "An Andorian woman."

"Andorians are acceptable. If she'll stay in the restricted areas and do as I tell her."

"Who?" Beverly asks.

"Doctor Emor, she discovered the plasma cloud, I bet she'd love a chance to see it."

"Her spouses might not like that."

Kathryn fixes Beverly with a look that conveys exactly how much she doesn't like Beverly bringing home Romulans, even friendly ones.

"Doctor Emor is trustworthy."

Toreth starts stroking Da Vinci's head again and studies them both. "I will take your scientist, but I cannot promise we will immediately proceed to the cloud or that I will be able to return her quickly."

"She'll understand."

"She'll have to eat Romulan food."

"How similar is it to Vulcan food?"

"We're not vegetarian, if that's what you're asking."

Da Vinci is only too happy to be adored and purrs.

"I'll need to formalise a trading relationship through an ambassador."

Beverly frowns. "You know a Federation Ambassador who would sanction a questionably legal trading agreement with the Romulans?"

Kathryn beams at her. "I can think of one."

"Kathryn--"

"What?"

"Ambassador Troi is a friend of ours, she'll be happy to formalise a trade agreement."

"Making it not an act of war for you to trade with us?"

"Yes."

"Romulan Ambassadors are not as easy to come by. I am afraid my word as sector commander will have to suffice until I can find a politician who is willing to meet with the Federation. I may need to bring it to the Empress herself."

"If you have the authority."

Toreth sips her tea and nods. "Enough to keep any of us from being declared an enemy of the Empire." She thinks for a moment then asks, "Ambassador Troi is related to the woman on my ship?"

"That's her mother."

"A Betazoid."

"Yes."

"So you don't trust me after all, Kathryn?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, but that the only Federation Ambassador I do trust happens to be Lwaxana Troi."

"Your politicians are as bad as ours."

"Betazoids are honest," Beverly says. "Even blunt."

"All right, Kathryn. You bring me your Ambassador and I'll take your scientist to see the ahriman." Toreth gets to her feet, extending her hand just as a human would.

Kathryn displaces the cat and gets to her feet. "It'll take me a few weeks to bring the Ambassador here."

"When could your scientist be ready?"

"Tomorrow, I'm sure."

Kathryn takes her hand; Toreth's grip is firm.

"I'll look forward to meeting your ambassador."

"She's an unique individual." Beverly says, standing. "Would you like to see more of the station while you're here?"

"It's a little crowded."

"Can't be worse than the Romulan capital. I-" Toreth pauses and smiles, almost shy. "I'd love to see what humans do."

"You mean when we're not plotting the demise of the Romulan Empire."

"I understand I can't see _that_ but I'd love to see the rest. No one looks at me in fear."

"You look human."

Toreth glances across at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "I do. You wouldn't be fascinated to walk down the streets of Romulus and have no one stare at you?"

"Maybe someday I will."

"Perhaps I'll walk on Earth with my real face." Toreth touches her forehead again and smiles at Beverly. "No offence meant, Doctor."

"Come on, we'll buy you a drink and teach you to play pool."

"Pool?"

"It's all about geometry, and no matter what Kathryn says, she's very very good, so we won't let her play."  


* * *

"So, who's your friend?" Jubiel pries as Beverly orders another round of drinks. They don't have Romulan Ale, but Toreth is just as fond of Skarovian Exterminati as Beverly is. Even if they go straight to her head.

"A trader we know from _Deep Space 5_ ," Beverly lies easily. "An old friend."

"Uh uh." The bartender is unconvinced but she lets it go. "Enjoy yourself, Doc."

Maeute and Shret are patiently teaching Toreth the basics of poker while Kathryn and Emor play a vicious-looking game of pool that appears to be to the death by the looks on their faces.

Gnoe grins at her as she takes a seat next to him. "Will they both live?"

"I can't tell. Is Emor always so serious?"

"She has to win."

"We could be here all night."

The waiter brings their drinks and Gnoe clinks his foamy root beer against Beverly's glass of multilayered spirits.

"Here's to staying up all night."

Shret, Maeute and Toreth return from the far table and start dealing a hand of poker.

"I know enough to play, apparently." Toreth takes her brightly coloured drink and stirs it with the straw. "What is this?"

"A Bolian firefeather."

"Bolians do not have feathers."

"Nor are they usually on fire." Beverly leans over the table and drops the bright blue berry in that sends up a blast of flame from the drink.

Toreth's eyebrows shoot up. "You drink this."

"You have to blow it out first."

Extinguishing the flame, Toreth takes a sip. "Strange."

"It's a more herbal taste than most human drinks."

"I'll bring you some Romulan drinks when your ambassador arrives. I can't have you thinking that Romulan ale is all we drink."

"I liked the winter cider on _Deep Space 5_." Beverly nibbles the strawberry garnishing her drink and picks up her hand of cards.

"You have to try the summerwine, it's like filling a glass with sunshine."

"Bring it and we'll try it." Beverly smiles over at her wife and corrects herself. "I'll try it and taunt Kathryn about it."

Toreth chuckles and shows Shret her hand so he can advise her bid. They whisper to themselves and Maeute leans in towards Beverly.

"Did you warn Toreth about Emor's charming stubbornness?"

"Kathryn thinks her temperament will blend in perfectly on a Romulan ship."

Gnoe laughs, tossing his ante into the centre of the table. "I almost wish I was going with her. Seeing how the Romulans live would be fascinating."

Shret leans back and Toreth bids twenty. Beverly studies her pair of nines and stays in. It's a friendly game, she might as well see how it'll turn out.

Hours later, Toreth has a neat pile of chips, Shret and Maeute are playing a game of pool that seems to have no rules Beverly recognises and Kathryn's head is neatly pillowed on Beverly's shoulder. Beverly has to keep her eyes up and left to not see Kathryn's cards, and she's gotten a few accidental glimpses, not that it's helped her at all.

Toreth bluffs like she's been born to it and if Beverly hadn't just been playing with Will, she'd be much further behind than she is. Emor is too logical of a player, but she seems to be able to read Toreth's bluffs better than Beverly can so it's getting down to the wire between the three of them. Kathryn loses her last hand and snuggles closer to Beverly.

"We've created a monster."

"I'm going to have to teach this to my crew."

Kathryn yawns into her hand. "I'll make sure you get a set of chips before you go."

"You're too kind."

Beverly takes that hand and Emor's pile of chips starts to dwindle. It's part luck but Beverly's not going to argue with it.

"We played every week on the _Enterprise_ , both of them."

Toreth tosses in three hundred, bankrupting Emor and leaving it between her and Beverly's three tens.

"Picard?"

"After a while. Will Riker and Deanna Troi usually beat me."

"I met Riker officially on his visit to Romulus after the Empress was crowned. We did not, unfortunately, get to play poker."

Beverly raises the bet to five hundred, drawing two sixes, which gives her a solid full house. It could be higher, but it's enough to risk a friendly game on.

Toreth counts her chips, then shoves them all forward. "Six hundred eighty."

Beverly tosses in a few more stacks and waits for Toreth to show her hand. Three kings. She cheers and drops her own cards to the table.

Toreth eyes them and shakes her head. "I concede."

"Practice playing your crew and you'll get me next time."

"I do like a challenge."

Beverly gathers the cards and shuffles them back as Toreth sorts the chips. Kathryn's stopped flirting with sleep and is lost, judging by the slow sound of her breathing.

"You wouldn't let her leave to meet with me."

"No."

"As her doctor or her wife?"

"Wife, mostly." Beverly smiles across the table. "Does that change your opinion of Starfleet?"

"It's sweet. I still have to think you're all soft hearted, overly ponderous do-gooders."

"While you're a coldly calculating part of a great Romulan machine-state."

"Exactly." Toreth finishes the last of her drink. "Though it didn't help me with cards."

"I had a good hand."

"You did." Toreth lingers, eyes on Kathryn. "You have a good hand here in more ways than one."

"Romulans fall in love too?"

Toreth's smile has a secretive light to it. "We do, from time to time. Remind me to send you more books."

"We'll try to find you a cat."

Sitting back in the booth, Toreth looks over the nearly quiet bar and watches the two Andorians settle the last part of their pool game with a long, lazy kiss.

"I'd like that." She rests her head on her hand, taking everything in. "I've enjoyed this. Seeing how the Federation lives."

"Much like home?"

"My security officer falls asleep on his wife's shoulder just like your admiral has every time we stay up late, drinking after dinner. My science officer has five children and talks about them every chance he gets. He suggested the book, which I remembered reading as a child. I hope your child enjoys it."

"In my experience, anything with magical boxes and robots is a big hit with children."

Toreth plays with her hair, trying to tuck it behind her alien ears and frowning. "Good. Perhaps, someday, you'll let me show you my side of things."

"I've been told Romulus is beautiful."

"The most beautiful place I've been, but I have yet to see the rest of the universe, so I can hardly be fair."

Beverly kisses Kathryn's forehead, starting to nudge her awake so they can go to bed. "I like that."

"It's gotten me this far." Toreth shuts her eyes and listens to station around them. "Off the edge of the map in unfriendly territory."

Beverly chuckles. "Terribly unfriendly."

"Isn't it just?"

Kathryn rubs her eyes and frowns at Beverly. "Why do you let me fall asleep?"

"Because I love you."

"Right." Kathryn rolls her head along Beverly's shoulder and remembers their guest. "Sorry."

Toreth watches them both, quietly fascinated. "Don't apologise. You've ruined decades of anti-Federation propaganda by being the least dangerous people I've met."

Kathryn's reply is more yawn than giggle. "Ruins the enmity, doesn't it?"

"Consider mine ruined."

"Happy to help."


End file.
